


All In

by TheBestDetective



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: (a little bit), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Frenemies, Heist, M/M, Sexual Content, oceans 11 au, oceans eleven au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 38,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBestDetective/pseuds/TheBestDetective
Summary: “Right. So, please enlighten me, Mr. Shelby. Why exactly are you here, then? I assume it has something to do with you finally getting out of prison, yeah? Build your business back up, need some cash, maybe. What do you want to do then, rob a casino?” Alfie says sarcastically, not realizing that he hit bulls-eye.orThe Peaky Blinders Oceans 11 AU
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 75
Kudos: 134





	1. bluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the spontaneous idea I had about a month ago.
> 
> Story wise I changed it up a bit from the movie (I basically took out the whole Tess/Danny storyline), but I used a lot of dialogue from the movie and copied it word for word, sometimes, just because I thought it fits so well. So, I don’t want to take too much credit for those, because some of the dialogue isn’t mine, technically. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Everything I know about poker and gambling and casinos; I researched or took from the movie. I don’t actually know how to play poker, so my apologies if you are a hardcore, professional poker player and cringe at my writing attempts.
> 
> English isn’t my first language, so I’m sorry in advance for any mistakes.
> 
> Have fun!

**bluff** _(noun, verb)_

  1. To deceive someone by making them think either that you are going to do something when you really have no intention of doing it, or that you have knowledge that you do not really have, or that you are someone else.
  2. _(poker)_ A bet made with a hand that is mathematically unlikely to be the best hand, either to make money or to disguise play patterns.
  3. To deter or frighten by pretence or a mere show of strength.



“Please state your name for the record.”

“Thomas Michael Shelby.”

“Thank you. Now, Mr. Shelby, the purpose of this hearing is to determine, whether, if released, you are likely to break the law again. While this was your first conviction, you have been implicated, though never charged, in over a dozen other crimes such as fraud, burglary, drug trafficking and a few more. What can you tell us about those?”

The woman speaking at the parole board hearing doesn’t look up from her notes as she directs her first question at Tommy.

Always keep calm, inconspicuous, charming. “As you say, ma'am, I was never charged.”

She lowers her reading glasses to level her eyes directly at Tommy. “Mr. Shelby, what we're trying to find out is, was there a reason you chose to commit this crime, or was there a reason you simply got _caught_ this time?”

“My wife left me. My business crashed, and I was upset.” Tommy replies evenly. “I fell into a self-destructive pattern.”

“If released, is it likely you'd fall back into a similar pattern?”

“She already left me once.” He says, dry humour sneaking into his voice. “I don't think she'd do it again just for fun.” He adds for good measure.

The woman leans forward on her elbows. “Mister Shelby, what do you think you _would_ do, if released?”

Tommy smiles.

He feels the heat like brick wall as he walks out of the gates of the prison, the air hot and dry, stifling in the sun that’s shining directly into his eyes. It feels different, now that Tommy is a free man again.

The release was far more anticlimactic than he’d envisioned it to be. Quite boring, even. No big entourage to pick him up, no welcome committee. Tommy only has his suit, his wallet and a three-day stubble he’s getting rid of as soon as possible. 

What he also has is a plan to bring down the people responsible for putting him into prison in the first place. Darby Sabini and his men will have to answer for the crimes they committed against Tommy, his family, his business. He’ll make sure of it.

Revenge tastes even sweeter when you wait two years for it.

Tommy gets to work.


	2. first base

**first base** _(noun)_

  1. _(_ _blackjack_ _)_ The betting spot located immediately to the left of the dealer, which is first to receive cards and first to act.
  2. The first step or stage in a course of action.



The interior at the Flamingo has hardly changed in the time Tommy was in prison. Maybe a new set of chairs and fancier lightning, but overall, the tables and the layout stayed the same. Fancy place, something for old, rich people to waste their money on. No actual Flamingos in sight, as much as Tommy can tell.

He gets himself a drink at the bar and takes in his surroundings until he spots the person he came here for.

He takes his drink and sits down on one of the blackjack tables.

“How are you, sir?” Lizzie says as she shuffles the cards. She doesn’t look up at him as she says it but there’s no way she hasn’t seen him coming.

“Hello, Lizzie.”

She hesitates for a moment before handing out the cards. “I beg your pardon, sir? You must have me confused with someone else.” She looks at him, then, pointing to her name tag. “My name is Evelyn, as you can see right here.”

“My mistake.”

“No problem, sir.” Her voice is just a tad too polite.

“This table is cold, anyway.” Tommy says, lips twitching up a fraction. He knocks the table once and stands up.

“Maybe you should try the lounge at the Ceasar’s.” Lizzies says, her eyes shining knowingly. “It gets busy after one o’clock.”

“One o’clock?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Tommy says and takes his chips.

Ceasar’s Palace is bustling, though not as much as it would have if it was a weekend. Lizzie finds him at the far end of the bar, nursing yet another drink. She throws her purse onto the bar and sits down beside him.

“ _Evelyn Carter_?”

“Pleased to meet you.” She says, waving the bartender over to order a drink. “Lizzie Stark can't get past the gaming board. You just got out?”

“A few days ago.”

“And you’re already back in the game, or what is it that brings you here?”

“Can't I just come visit an old friend?”

Lizzies face tells him that she’s not buying his bullshit. Folding her legs, she takes the drink and thanks the bartender.

“I’m here, because I might have a very lucrative plan.” Tommy says, deciding to skip the small talk. “And I have a job for you, if you want in.”

Lizzie doesn’t look up, but her fingers tighten on her whiskey glass. Tommy realizes his mistake a moment too late.

“Not- not like that.” He said, voice quieter than usual. Though Lizzie wasn’t ashamed of her past, she wasn’t keen on returning to it.

“What would my tasks include, then?”

“Nothing you aren’t already doing. Shuffling cards, talking to people. Listening around, you know.” Tommy looks at her as he takes another sip. “How would you like a transfer to the Bellagio?”

“The Bellagio.” Her head snaps up. “Out of prison and back into the lion’s den.”

She takes a deep breath and looks at him questionably. “And aren’t you on parole? You aren’t even allowed to be here, I bet.”

“I was never out of the lion’s den, just got in deeper.” Tommy says, and then adds, “And yes, I am on parole but that’s not important right now.”

“If you think so.” Lizzies fingers trace drops of condensation water on her glass, her brows furrowed like she was thinking the offer over in her head. Finally, she looks up and fixes Tommy with her eyes narrowed. “Fine. I can't promise anything, but I’m interested. Depends on who else is in.”

“Good. I was thinking about the usual suspects.” Tommy replies, clinking his glass to hers.

Lizzie nods, satisfied for now. They just sit for a moment, both drinking in silence.

Lizzie looks tired, he thinks, dark circles under her eyes, but different than when he first met her. She always looked exhausted, before. Constantly stressed, always looking over her shoulder, out for danger.

Now it's just the kind of tiredness that can be cured with a good night’s sleep.

“Have you seen her?” Tommy asks, breaking the silence.

She doesn’t have to ask who he means. “The last I heard; she was teaching movie stars how to play poker.”

“That’s a nice way to spend time.”

“She fucking hates it and you know it.” Lizzie says, lifting an eyebrow.

“Time for a new job, then.”

The building wasn’t anything special, in the grand scheme of things. _Watery Lane_ was probably a strange name for a night club, but it was a piece of home, right in the middle of the worlds most famous gambling capitol.

The back entrance didn’t change much in the two years Tommy was trapped behind bars. The same dark corners, the same maze of alleyways to lead him towards the rooms that once housed the city’s biggest illegal horseracing betting operation, among other things. It isn't as big as it had been once, all thanks to Darby Sabini.

The air is thick with smoke and the shouts and booming voices got louder the closer Tommy got. Expensive cologne and old cigars penetrate the air as much as the sweat of the dancing bodies a few rooms over do.

A few guys rush past him, barely sparing him a look, too new to steer clear when they see him walking by, not used to seeing Tommy’s face around. They know his name, sure, but they don’t think of _him_ as the boss of this whole operation, no.

The woman they respond to is sitting at a poker table in what was universally dubbed the _gambling room_ , cigarette between her fingers and looking at the table with a frown on her face. The rest of the table is occupied with what has to be mostly B-Movie stars at best, and musicians that had one big hit and thought it was a good idea to throw away their money through illegal poker plays. It was the thrill of the illegal, yet it held no real risk besides losing a good amount of money. Pretty people with cash to burn, it was almost no challenge deceive them.

By now, a few older employees noticed who just walked in through the door and a murmur ripples through the hallways, whispers of admiration or fear, Tommy isn't sure. He ignores them and takes a few steps towards the table, hands casually stuffed into his pockets.

“Do you have space for one more player?” He nods towards the table.

Tommy has to hand it to her; Polly keeps remarkably unaffected. Only her fingers freeze for a moment before going back to flipping the poker chips on the table. Her eyes don’t leave his and she takes a breath and leans back, beckoning a hand out to signal him to sit down.

“Sure, why not.” Her clipped voice hides all the emotions she can't show right now. Surprise, anger, relief. Tommy’s lips give a slight twitch at catching her off guard, he can't help it.

“Yeah man, come on, let’s mix this shit _up_!” One of the guys at the table overenthusiastically agrees. He is obnoxiously chewing gum and his head is in dire need of a haircut.

Once everybody is settled, Polly hands out the cards. The amateurs at the table are oblivious to the tension that is simmering in the room between Tommy and Polly.

Truth be told, Tommy didn’t know how Polly was going to react once she saw him. He _did_ fuck up this time, he got caught through sheer dumb luck and a plan gone wrong, and Polly had told him as much before. He put his trust in the wrong hands. Now it is a gamble to just walk back like nothing happened, but Tommy is nothing if not a gambling man if the odds are in his favour.

“What’s your name?” One of the other guys asks. Expensive leather jacket, gold chain around his neck. Bit overcompensating, it seems. He was also the one who had been bragging about his yacht in Saint Tropez before he saw Tommy come in. Classic case of flaunting your newfound wealth.

“Tommy.”

“You from around here, Tommy?” A woman asks. Pretty little thing she is, probably the newest addition to the bunch.

“You could say that.” Tommy answers, picking up his cards to take a look at them.

Polly stays quiet on the other side of the table, content to let the conversation go on for the moment. The low thumbing bass carries over from the dancefloor and gives the room a dreamlike feeling.

“Mr. Shelby, what do you do for a living?” Another guy asks. He is wearing a suit, no tie, top button open and he honest to god has a fucking _toothpick_ in his mouth. “If you don’t mind me asking.” He adds as an afterthought for politeness sake.

Polly’s lips twitch. She doesn’t stop looking at Tommy. Watching. Calculating.

“Why would I mind you asking?” Tommy says. “Just got out of prison.”

The players look at each other, trying to figure out if Tommy was taking the piss or not.

_That’s a hook._

Finally, toothpick guy speaks up again. “Woah. Really?” He throws a glance at Polly, then back at Tommy. “What- uh, what were you in prison for?”

“Racketeering. Money laundering. Drug trafficking.”

“Huh. That’s- huh.” He nervously clears his throat. “And uh, can you make good money with that?”

God, these kids. Tommy shrugs.

“Don’t let him fool you.” Polly interrupts. “You can make a fuck ton of money if you don’t make deal with the wrong people. And then get caught.” She throws him a look over the table. “Especially when someone advised you against it.”

“I bet 500.” Tommy takes a breath and throws a few chips into the middle of the table to steer the conversation away from him.

Polly looks at the others and straightens up. “Alright. What’s the first lesson in poker?”

“Never bet on the uh-“

“No, don’t go for the-“

“Leave your emotions at the door?”

“That’s right. And todays lesson is about the bluff.” Polly points to Tommy’s chips on the table. “That much money this early in the game? I’m saying he’s holding nothing better than a pair of face cards.”

Tommy doesn’t twitch.

Leather jacket guy nervously fiddles with his cards for a moment. “Yeah, I fold.” _Good choice,_ Tommy thinks.

Next up was toothpick guy. “Yeah, no … I’m game, guys. I will see your 500, and I will raise you- “ he puts the chips on the table, “another 500.”

Too cocky, too arrogant, not enough experience. His downfall.

_Line._

Polly hums, fully in instructor mode now. “That’s a good bet, Josh. But be careful, we don’t want to push him too high, too fast.” She fixes Tommy with a conspirational stare. “Keep him on a leash.”

The woman – Betty, he learns – is up next.

“Call.” She says. She scratches her ear after putting her chips into the pile. Very obvious tell. This is almost _too_ easy, Tommy thinks in passing.

“I will see your 500,” Tommy then says, before reaching into his pocket, “and raise you 2000.” He puts a wad of cash, neatly rolled, onto the table. One guy whistles, Betty raises her eyebrows. That’s a move they didn’t expect.

By now, Polly has difficulties keeping a smirk off her face, Tommy can tell. “Remember,” she addresses the players, “you’re free to do what you like, but that’s a lot of money.” She reaches for her chips. “But I’m staying in. He’s trying to buy his way out of his bluff.”

The players murmur before putting the money onto the pile, one after the other.

Tommy clears his throat, nonchalant. He picks up his cards and puts on his best innocent amateur poker face as he throws them on the table. “I’m not sure what the nine does, but the ace, I think, is pretty high.”

“Dude- _what?_ “

“Yeah, thanks for the tip on the bluff.”

“Fucking hell, man, fuck this.”

_And sinker._


	3. cow

**cow** _(noun)_

 _(poker)_ A player with whom one is sharing a buy-in, with the intent to split the result after play. To go cow is to make such an arrangement.

“God, I'm bored.”

“You look bored.” Tommy says as he and Polly leave the club through a side entrance, pockets filled with their hard-earned money.

“I _am_ bored.” Polly repeats, her voice dripping with sarcasm. They make their way towards her car; one of the few things she still has from before almost all of their business went to shit. It feels like a relic from times long gone, even though it’s only been a little over two years when Sabini screwed them over.

“Did you get the cake I sent you?”

Tommy lets out a short laugh. “Why did you think I came to you first?” He looks at Polly from the passenger side, but she resolutely keeps watching the street. For all the shallow talk they’d shared throughout the evening, he can tell that Polly is still upset with him.

She had to sweep up the broken glass, clean up the mess and keep what little was left of the business going. In anybody else’s hands it would have been run to the ground, but in Polly’s hands, there was something left to salvage, enough to get back on their feet again and make it bigger than it had ever been.

They’d just need a jump start for it.

“I know I fucked up.” He says while watching the city scenery out of the side window. That was as close to an actual apology Tommy was going to give her.

Blunt pain shoots up his neck as Polly gives him a cuff on the back of his head, like he was an unruly child and not a convicted felon who’d been in prison for the last two years.

“Damn right you did, Tommy.” She says and shakes her head.

The tension eases up a bit after that, which Tommy is grateful for. It has been a long day after all.

“I could have picked you up.” Polly says.

“I know.”

“You could have called me.” _Why the fuck didn’t you_ hangs unspoken in the air.

“I know, Polly.”

Plenty of restaurants are open until late into the night, which works in their favour right now. Tommy wasn’t in the mood to eat but Polly didn’t leave him a choice and ordered almost half the menu before Tommy could object.

“So.” She starts, crossing her arms.

“So.”

“Tell me.” She looks directly into his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “And don’t say you only came to say hello, Tommy, because you came to visit me in the middle of the night the day you are released from prison. So, go on and tell me what you want to do and I will tell you that you’re crazy and then I can finally go to bed.”

Straight to the point, then. No wonder where he’s got it from.

“I do have an idea.”

“God help me.”

“We’ll need to plan it meticulously. Good crew, some money to start.”

“Naturally.” Polly says. Tommy can tell that she isn't convinced yet, that she only lets him go on out of a morbid sense of curiosity. “Is the target who I think it is?”

“That depends on who you think it is.”

“Tommy.” There is an edge to her voice.

Tommy pulls out his pack of cigarettes to light one up. “It's very lucrative. We can build the business back up.”

“Not what I asked.”

Tommy sighs and takes a deep drag from his cigarette. “We’ll do it on the night of the _Bonnie Gold vs. Goliath_ fight. Sabini will be busy and we’ll have a good cover. Amongst other things.”

“That’s in _three weeks._ ” Polly looks tired for a moment at the confirmation of the target. “You’re going to mess with Sabini after you’ve been out of prison for how long? Ten, twelve hours? Fuck, Tommy.”

“It's a one in a million chance, Polly. It's all planned out.” He leans in a bit. “Let’s make a trip and I’ll show you.”

He needs Polly. It's the truth and he isn't ashamed to admit it. A project of this calibre needs someone competent, someone skilled. He wants her by his side, managing the plan with him, because there’s truly no one else who’d do it better than Polly.

Various blueprints are strewn all over the table of the big office space they bribed their way into. He’d just had to namedrop _Shelby_ and the security guy at the entrance even held the door open for them. Good to see that they haven’t fully lost their reputation.

“Sabini’s got a long list of enemies. We’ll find someone willing to work with us.” Tommy says.

“Yes, but enemies with loose cash and nothing to lose?” Polly raises her eyebrows from where she’s bent over the table.

A beat. Tommy says nothing, just waits for her to come to the right conclusion without having to say a word himself.

“Ah.” Polly turns away from the blueprints and looks at him. “Solomons.”

“Solomons.” Tommy confirms. Polly huffs out a breath.

“Fucking hell, Tommy. No.” She slams her hand onto the table and picks up the necessary blueprints to roll them up neatly just to _do_ something besides punching him in the face, Tommy assumes. “Too risky. He double-crossed you before, how many times? Don’t you remember? He’s _insane_.”

“He is, but he also holds a grunge against Sabini.” Tommy says, unaffected by her outburst.

“A _grunge_ isn’t enough, Tommy.”

“If the rumours are true, Sabini plans to blow up one of Solomons casinos. Or one that _was_ Solomons’.”

“Blow up?” Polly asks, confused for a second. “Metaphorically or literally?”

“He greased some hands at the city council, so I’m pretty sure he plans to take it down literally.”

She whistles, but then shakes her head again. She seems to do it like clockwork, these days. “Those are _prison rumours_ , Tommy.”

“Exactly. They’re are the most reliable ones.” He says and then decides to switch topics. “I told you, I have it all planned out, Polly. I will work perfectly. We just need a good team- “

“It may be planned perfectly, but if you calculated for Solomons, you also have to calculate for the fact that he’s a mad bastard who can't be trusted.”

“I did prepare for that, but he won't cross us on this, trust me. It's just as lucrative for him as it is for us.”

Polly doesn’t look convinced at all. The toughest and most brutal men in prison couldn’t make Tommy feel so put on the spot like Polly can.

“Alright.” Polly says, momentarily putting the topic of Alfie aside. This wouldn’t be the last he’d hear from her, he was sure. “Tell me the plan.”

He does. It takes quite a while; since Polly keeps insisting on every little detail.

After, she is quiet for a bit, running everything that he just told her over again in her head, calculating for eventual mistakes and possible risks. There aren’t any, Tommy knew. He thought of the plan, after all.

He doesn’t disturb her while she pulls out a cigarette but doesn’t light it, just turns it over and over in her hand. The exhaustion from before is all but gone from her face and replaced by concentration and focus.

“Who do you have in mind?” She says after a while, finally lighting the cigarette.

“Me and you, for one.”

Polly gives him a look. _Oh, really._

“Arthur and John.” He continues.

“Oh yes, they’ll be in.” Polly laughs. “No doubt about that. They’ve been starting enough trouble on their own.”

“I bet.” Tommy says before continuing. “Lizzie still works at the Flamingo. We’ll get her into the Bellagio, then we have someone on the inside.”

Polly clicks her tongue. “Smart. You think she’s in?”

“Definitely.” Tommy says, withholding the fact that he already visited her. “And I thought about Finn and Isiah.”

Before Polly can object, Tommy goes on. “Polly, Finn wants in on the family business, and I’d prefer it if he does this shit with us, where we can keep an eye on him. It’s worse if he’s getting involved with some other asshole.”

“Tommy- “

“And where Finn is, Isiah goes too.”

She looks at him for a moment, lips pressed together. “Well. I’m not the biggest fan of the idea, but I guess we’ll do it.”

Polly sighs and goes on. “We’ll need someone in charge of electronics, technology; that kind of thing.”

“Yes. And someone bendy.” Tommy says. Polly looks at him, eyebrows raised at his wording. She doesn’t make a comment, though.

Deciding to let it go for the moment, Polly asks, “That’s everybody?”

“Yes.” Tommy says, his tone final. “That makes ten. Ten is enough, don’t you think?”

Polly puts on her coat and says nothing.

“You think we need one more?”

Silence.

“You think we need one more.”

More silence.

“Alright, we’ll get one more.”

Now, there is a sly smile on Polly’s face and she turns around with her eyebrows raised in a silent question. _Any ideas?_

“Ada?” Tommy answers with a question of his own.

“ _Ada_.” Polly gives him a look. “Good luck with that. She said she’s out, remember?”

“I do. You could always ask her, though.”

She cocks her head. “I could ask her.”

“What do you think? She’s going to be back in?”

Polly sighs and steals Tommy’s cigarette out of his fingers. “I think that you and Ada are more similar than I first thought.”

 _That’s a yes then_ , Tommy thinks.

“Is this about Grace?” Polly asks as Tommy pushes the button for the elevator.

He was expecting the question, which doesn’t make it any more pleasant. “No.”

“Tommy.”

He sighs. Polly wasn’t wrong to assume that this had something to do with Grace, but he’d rather not talk about her right now. Preferably never; but it seems like he just doesn’t have that kind of luck today.

Grace left him, that’s it. There wasn’t anything to do, he couldn’t dwell on it. He’d made his peace with it, albeit reluctantly.

“It isn’t. I promise you.” He says, for once trying to sound as sincere as he feels, even if it pains him to do so. But this is Polly. If anybody deserves the truth, it is her.

“Then why?” Polly asks. She clearly wasn’t satisfied with the half-washed answers Tommy had given her before. “Why such an elaborate, dramatically complicated plan?”

“Why not?” He turns around to face her. “We lost _everything_ , Pol. Some no-name fucker sent me to prison and he’s having the time of his life right now, basking in our hard-earned success and you’re out there, teaching B-movie stars how to play poker.” He takes a step closer to her, tilting his head so she’d look directly into his eyes. “Don’t you miss it? Running with the big boys? Let’s take back what is ours, let’s show them who’s in charge again.”

Neither of them says anything as they step into the elevator, both holding a blueprint in one hand and a cigarette in the other. A perfect mirror picture of each other.

The drive down is quiet, until Polly speaks up. “Did you practice that?”

Tommy’s lips twitch. God, how he’d missed her.

“I rushed it a bit there at the end, did I?” He says, amused.

“No, no. The delivery was great.” Polly says nonchalantly, gesturing in the air with her cigarette. “The B-movie star thing was a bit harsh.”

The doors close and they leave the building with hands full of plans, blueprints and classified intel.

There is preparation do be done, after all.


	4. horse

**horse** _(noun)_

_(poker)_ A player financially backed by someone else. Compare with bankroll and staking.

It's crazy how smell was the sense that could bring back a whole load of memories, Tommy thought, as he was guided through the halls of the bakery.

Sweet and herbal, coming from the rum left to sit in big barrels neatly stacked on top of each other. Rows and rows of the – he begrudgingly had to admit to himself, pretty good – rum that once was Alfie’s main source of income.

He branched out, just like Tommy did when he got started, and now he owned a few smaller casinos, one big one on the Boulevard and had several trade deals on the side. The bakery was just for decoration by now, just like _Watery Lane_ was, once _._ Good for family work, meetings and of course, laundering all the money that was acquired from less legitimate sources.

Alfie’s office was located in the back and Tommy catalogues every detail that has changed since his last visit. It isn’t much, he notices. Ollie got a bigger desk. Ollie himself got taller, if that was even possible. Tommy feels like an aunt at a family dinner, pinching her nephew’s cheeks and telling him _how big you’ve gotten since I last saw you, god, I can't believe it._

“Thomas!” Alfie’s deep voice rumbles from the other end of the desk “Now what a lovely surprise, mate, I didn’t see you come in.”

 _That_ was clearly a lie. He must’ve known Tommy was on his way to see him while Tommy was still on the other end of the city. Spies and eyes everywhere, just like Tommy.

“You look good, mate. How’d you enjoy your visit to the clink?” Tommy doesn’t know if he’s genuinely asking or if he’s just taking the piss as he lifts himself out of his chair to shake Tommy’s hand. He sometimes can't tell with Alfie and it makes him feel out of his element and on his toes at the same time.

“Can't say I recommend it.” Tommy replies offhandedly, yet truthfully.

While Alfie wasn’t the type to flaunt his wealth in excess, he did appreciate the occasional expense for comforts sake. A new desk, but the same old, worn-out chair. The same gold rimmed glasses, but with a new chain.

New circumstances, same old man.

Ollie, who had carefully watched them greet each other, is tasked by Alfie to bring them a bottle of rum. _Fun and fucking_ , Tommy recalls.

“This is a business visit.” Tommy says, pointing to the bottle.

If Alfie is surprised at the comment, he doesn’t show it. “I forgot how you can be sometimes. No foreplay, straight to the main event, eh?” Alfie says, quirking up his lips. He fills Tommy’s glass with rum anyways. “Now tell me, where is the fun in that, Thomas?”

Tommy resolutely doesn’t dignify the question with an answer and moves to take a seat opposite Alfie. It’s right back to the good old times, then.

Alfie picks up his cutlery again and takes another bite of his food.

“Right. So, please enlighten me, Mr. Shelby. Why’re you here, then? I assume it has something to do with you finally getting out of prison, yeah? Build your business back up, need some cash, maybe. What do you want to do then, rob a casino?” Alfie says sarcastically, not realizing that he hit bulls-eye.

Tommy blinks. He is genuinely taken aback for a moment, because _what the fuck._

Alfie’s face shows no indication that he’s serious in his inquiry, which means his question really just was a wild guess. It probably should worry Tommy a bit that his carefully constructed plan is the first ridiculous thing that a man, whose reputation is that of an insane one, would guess.

Instead of starting with the proposal he had carefully planned out in his head, Tommy leans back, unperturbed, and takes his time to light another cigarette. He looks directly into Alfie’s eyes and lifts his hand to show him three fingers, casually, as if he’s ordering drinks at a pub. He’s almost amused by the slow understanding that spreads over Alfie’s face.

“Fuck me. And I thought I was s’posed to be the crazy one here.” Alfie looks fairly impressed for a second, as if he was truly surprised that someone would ever come close to match his unpredictable absurdity. “Three? You want to rob _three_ casinos?”

He melts into his chair, fully engaged now, and crosses his hands over his stomach. Probably still thinks this is an elaborate joke, somehow.

“So, then I’m asking you again, enlighten me. Why _exactly_ are you here? I hope it’s to tell me goodbye, because at best, Tommy boy – at _best_ – this shitshow’s going to send you back to prison real quick. At worst, you’ll have some nice concrete shoes that you can display to the fish at the bottom of the ocean somewhere.”

“I’m touched that you care so much for my well-being, Alfie.” Tommy lets some real humour slip into the sentiment.

“Yeah, you bastard.” Alfie mutters while chewing around his food. “How could I not. You know I’m a very benevolent person.”

They always slip into familiarity, these conversations with Alfie. And it should worry him, Tommy thinks, this easy back-and-forth. Alfie sure as hell wasn’t a trustworthy person in business. As long as a deal benefits him, then yes. But, fuck, he could be a pain in the ass when he wanted to be, Tommy knew first-hand. He was sharp in moments of negotiation, and when there wasn’t a lot to lose, it was almost enjoyable.

God, he suddenly, and without any apparent reason, had to think of Grace.

He had Grace for a few years, and he was happy, he really was, until he wasn’t. He had Greta, in the beginning, and then a few other women – none of which stuck around for long enough to be of any relevance – and then he had Grace. He liked it, at the beginning, that she would wander into his mind at the most random of times, set off by things that weren’t even related to her; now he just had a bittersweet feeling in his chest when Grace would sneak up on him, the bitter part outweighing the sweetness.

He’d had his fair share of conquests after she left. And that’s how he liked it; just turn to women and ignore the part of him that though _this isn’t the only thing you’re attracted to and you know it_. He wasn’t ashamed, no, but it simply wasn’t practical. Not in this line of work, with his reputation.

He wasn’t ashamed for liking men or in denial about it, but he did his best to overlook and ignore it in favour of concentrating on more important matters. One of them being his casino heist he was currently sitting in Alfie’s office for.

It bothered him, that all of these thoughts surfaced mostly when he was with Alfie. They met every few weeks, at most, but every time, without fail, Tommy would have to use more energy than usual to push his traitorous thought down again.

At the beginning, when he met Alfie – before he first crossed him, the bastard – Tommy thought, in an abstract kind of way, that Alfie would be not the worst person to be - _around_. It was never a serious thought, though, just fuelled by a tad too much whiskey and the high of negotiating when he sat in Alfie’s office, often until late into the night.

The thought was put aside as fast as it rose, after that first meeting. Instead, it was replaced by a need to stay ahead of Alfie at all times, along with his schemes and ploys.

How fitting that he’s pulled out of his head by said man, then.

“Now, I would say that I know more about casino security than you do, than any man alive does, in fact, yeah?”

Right. They were talking about Tommy’s revenge-robbery plan. Alfie claps his hands together over his half-eaten plate. “And let me tell you, sweetie, they got cameras, they got watches, they got locks, they got timers, they got vaults. They have enough armed personnel to blow your fucking head clean off and scatter the parts through the whole city.”

“It's never been tried.”

“ _It's never been tried_. Oh ho.” Alfie mocks him. “It has been tried, Tommy. You know about the three most successful robberies in Las Vegas history?” Alfie doesn’t wait for Tommy to answer. “Number three: The Bronze Medal. Some stuck-up turtleneck-wearing fucker in 1954 grabbed a lockbox at the Horseshoe casino, runs for the exit and boom. Gets tackled to the floor by about a dozen angry security guys. He got two steps closer to the door than any living soul before him.”

Tommy isn't impressed, just crosses his legs and keeps on smoking.

“Next up, the Flamingo in ’71.” Alfie was getting into it now, the countless rings on his fingers catching the light of his desk lamp as he gestured wildly to articulate his story. “This guy actually tasted fresh oxygen before they grabbed him. Impressive, yeah? ‘Course, you have to remember he was breathin’ out of a hose for the next three weeks because the guard smacked him square in the face with his fucking nightstick. Goddamn hippy.”

Alfie was leaning his elbows on his desk, propping his chin up on his folded hands before he spread his arms wide again, restless. “And the closest _any_ man has ever come to robbing a Las Vegas Casino was outside of Caesar’s Palace in 1987. This guy, arms full of cash, running out the parking lot, full of euphoria. He was followed by half the security staff of the casino. He came, he grabbed,” Alfie shapes his fingers to a mockery of a gun and aims it right at Tommy. He makes a clicking sound and says, “and they conquered.”

There is a beat of silence.

“That was captivating, really.” Tommy says, quietly amused. “You have a talent for storytelling, somebody ever told you that before?”

“Fuck off.” Alfie says and picks up his cutlery again to resume eating. “But I’m sure you’re a pro, Tommy. Maybe you can make it out alive. Send me a postcard if you do.”

Tommy ignores the last part. “What your monologue right now just told me is, that it seems like you know a lot about casino robberies. If I’m not mistaken.” Which Tommy rarely is.

“I assume that my expertise in this kind of subject isn’t the only reason you’re here.”

“Well, we’ll also need some money to start.”

“ _We_ ” Alfie repeats, outraged. “Now, I think your hearing must’ve suffered in prison just like your fucking brain did, mate, because: did you hear me agree to _any_ of this?”

“You didn’t decline.”

“Was my lecture about how impossible casino robberies are not deterrent enough, Thomas.”

“It's lucrative.”

“If I’d need more money, there are easier ways to go on about that.”

“I’m not just talking about money.” Tommy says cryptically.

“That’s the literal definition of lucrative.”

“Alfie.”

Alfie sighs and squints at Tommy. “Alright. I’ll bite for the moment. Now, if I, _hypothetically speaking_ , were to participate in your” Alfie gestures around with his hands braced on the arms of his chair, “ _endeavour_ , let’s put it like that. If I were to hypothetically participate in that, yeah, who else do you have in mind for this? This isn’t a two-man operation.”

“No, it's not. I have enough people.” Tommy has a suspicion in which direction this conversation is going and he doesn’t like it.

“ _Who_ are these people, was my fucking question.”

Tommy sighs and rubs his temples with the hand not holding his cigarette. “Reliable people.”

Alfie picks up his fork again to take another bite of his salat and Tommy takes another drag from his cigarette. “See, Thomas, I admire your persistence, I really do. Do you remember the first time we met? I do.” Tommy expects him to elaborate, but Alfie doesn’t. He is bizarre like that, sometimes, and Tommy doesn’t fully know if he’s just pretending or not.

“So, it's _you_ , with _your_ people and _your_ plan, but _my_ money. Something doesn’t add up. So, the thing is this: how can I trust you to not fuck me over once this deal is done. I don’t know _how_ you would do it, but I can put my brain into motion and I think I would find some nice scenarios where this could go in your favour, and your favour only. How can I – your humble patron in this scenario – be sure to not get fucked.”

“You can't.” Tommy says without beating around the bush. “But if I screw you over then I won't reach my goal, and then we’re both fucked.”

“Now, see, that’s interesting.” Alfie hums. He scratches his beard and clears his throat, all while eyeing Tommy carefully. “This conversation was very interesting and very insightful to your psyche, indeed, but we’re done here now, I think.”

“You’re right.” Tommy says after a moment, which is the most uncharacteristic comment that he could’ve made, but Alfie has yet to ask _which_ casinos Tommy has in mind for his heist. Tommy decides to make it a bit more interesting. “Just pure ego on my side.”

Alfie frowns, immediately suspiciously.

“Well, I better get going, then.” Tommy rouses and stands up to put his jacket back on. Alfie is watching him with carefully concealed interest in his eyes. Normally, Tommy would have explained some more, but now that he _doesn’t_ , Alfie naturally gets curious. “I’ll be seeing you, then. Thank you for the rum, Alfie.”

Alfie rumbles out a reply and haphazardly shakes Tommy’s hand. Tommy could tell that _Alfie_ could tell that there was a missing piece to the puzzle that was their conversation just now.

Just as Tommy makes a move to push the door handle down, Alfie speaks up.

“Look, alright. Just out of curiosity, which casinos did you genius plan to rob?”

_There we are._

Tommy buttons up his coat, presenting the picture of nonchalance. “The Bellagio, the Mirage and the MGM Grand.”

Silverware clinks against the plate as Alfie drops his fork.

“Those are Darby Sabini’s casinos.”

“Are they now.” Tommy says, feigning surprise. “What a coincidence.”

He stands up to face Tommy head on. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re going to steal from Darby Sabini, you better bloody _know_ what you’re doing, yeah? This sort of thing used to be civilized. You'd hit a guy, he'd whack you back, done. But with Sabini ... fuck me. At the end of this, he _better_ not _know_ you're involved, not know your name or thinks you're dead, because he'll kill you, Tommy and _then_ he'll go to work on you.”

“That's why we're going to have to be very careful. Very precise. Very organized." Tommy says, not deterred by Alfie’s speech. “Well-funded, too.” He adds after a beat. Is was partly the reason he was here, after all.

“That’s a fucking insane plan, and it could fuck us up, you and me both Tommy.”

A moment of silence. Tommy keeps watching Alfie as he scratches his beard and looks around his office, grabbing his cane, just so he has something to hold onto. “You realize, right, that I could ruin the precious little life you still cling to by mentioning this conversation to Sabini, do you?” Alfie says. He taps his cane onto Tommy chest. “For your sake, Thomas, I hope you know that.”

The cane isn’t heavy, but Tommy feels like it burns a hole clear through his suit if he lets it sit on his chest any longer. Tommy doesn’t move, and neither does Alfie. They just keep looking at each other. The cane gets heavier and heavier.

“Yes, I know.” Tommy says. “I also know that Sabini has you on a tight leash, doesn’t he? Wouldn’t you like to have a bit more freedom? Maybe keep your biggest casino?”

It says a lot about the situation that Alfie doesn’t just ram his cane into Tommy’s head and lets him bleed out on the floor. Tommy kept up with current events as much as it was possible in prison, but apparently, the situation between Alfie and Sabini was more tense than Tommy first thought.

Alfie licks his lips, watching Tommy with calculation and anger in his eyes. Tommy is pretty sure the anger is mostly directed at Sabini, though he can't be sure. He hopes it is, otherwise it was a bad decision to come here.

“Fucker wants to take over the boxing matches, too.” Alfie’s voice is low and full with a seething, quiet kind of rage. “Hasn’t said anything, sure, but I know. I fucking know what he’s doing.”

Tommy hasn’t looked away from him for one second. He keeps himself calm, but he can't deny the thrill flooding him as another puzzle piece aligns itself in his plan.

Then, as if a switch is flipped, Alfie grins, devious and all teeth.

“You need an insane man to go on with your insane plan.”

“Why do you think I asked you.” Tommy says, and almost, _almost_ smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The speech about the Casino robberies is almost 1:1 like it is in the movie. I just love this part too much to not include it.  
>   
> I have a lot going on right now, so the next chapter will probably take a week or so. But until then, enjoy!


	5. chip dumping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% happy how this chapter turned out, but I just got out of the hospital, and my brain doesn't want to let me edit this in any sensible way, so I just thought I'd post it anyways before sitting on it for another 5 weeks!

**chip dumping** _(noun)_

_(poker)_ A strategy whereby one player deliberately loses chips to another player.

“I need you out on Steward Boulevard, right now.” Polly’s voice booms through the phone. She sounds like she’s out of breath and Tommy can hear police sirens in the background. That … couldn’t be good and he’s mentally rubbing his temples to stave off the headache that’s creeping up on him.

“We’ve run into an unexpected setback.”

“Who is it?” He asks, phone between his ear and his shoulder while putting on his clothes. The sounds in the distance get louder and he hears a few incomprehensible, shouting voices.

“Who do you think it is.” Polly says, frustrated. “Arthur and John.”

_Of course_ , Tommy thinks, exasperated

This is not how he wanted to start his day.

By the time he gets to the meeting point, Polly is already impatiently tapping her foot.

“Over there.” In the distance, he can see five police cars and even more policemen escorting a group of approximately six men out of a small local bank. They’re on the outskirts of Las Vegas, so a bank robbery is a pretty big deal in place that mostly deals with teens stealing candy and old people complaining about noise from their neighbours. A significant crowd of onlookers has gathered on the adjourning streets, whispering about the proceedings.

“Let’s get this over with, then.” Tommy says and makes his way over to the centre of commotion. Polly puts on her sunglasses and braces herself.

“Well, if it isn’t two of the Shelby boys.” Tommy declares as he and Polly turn to the officer trying to hold down Arthur. “We’ve been after these guys for over a year now.”

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Arthur shouts but as he catches sight of Tommy his eyes widen before he gives him devilish grin.

“We’ll take it from here, officer.” Polly says to the young policeman. She flashes her fake FBI badge and takes hold of Arthur, who is still acting like a mad dog. John is mainly throwing out curses at the officers, and Tommy makes his way over to him.

“Get them into the car.” Polly orders Tommy. She snips her fingers at the officer, who now has his hands empty and looks overwhelmed. “And you, get me Officer Strong, right now.”

“Who?” The officer asks bewildered.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, just find him!” Polly barks. You can get away with almost anything when your victim is confused and you’re confident enough.

“Good to see you out of the clink, Tommy.” John says with a smirk as he is being led to their getaway car.

“It's nice to be back.”

“Yeah, I bet.” John laughs. “Please tell me you have a plan, I can't fucking work with these losers anymore.”

“Group meeting is in two days.”

“Thank fuck.”

They’re gone from the scene before anyone notices they’ve been fooled.

He doesn’t even have to elaborate on the plan before Finn and Isiah decide they’re in. Tommy is greeted with pats on the shoulder and for once doesn’t protest the heartfelt greeting from his brother.

Polly is watching from the doorway of the gambling room. John and Arthur are there, too, sitting around the table as Tommy explains the rough outline of his heist plan to them.

“That’s no simple cash grab, Tommy.” Finn remarks. Tommy was shocked to see how much he grew up in the two years he was gone. He’s an adult now, and it catches Tommy off guard for a second, even thought it’s not really news.

“No, it isn’t. Bit more complicated than that.”

He gave them a simple outline of the plan, saving the detailed version for the big group meeting. After they leave for the night, it's only Polly and Tommy.

“You’ll have to tell him that Solomons is involved.” Polly says. Not done yet, with that topic.

“You mean Arthur? I didn’t want to ruin the evening just yet, Polly.” Tommy says. He lights a cigarette and offers one to Polly too. “All in good time. Next up is finding someone with acrobatic talents, so to speak.”

“We could ask Esme.” Polly suggests. “Already in the family, always down for something new.”

Tommy thought the same thing as he came up with his plan, but truth be told, he didn’t know how the loss of business and her general skepticism towards Tommy would hold up. “Don’t think she’s happy to work with me, but yes. Ask her. Or tell John to ask her.”

“She’ll cope.”

They stand in silence for a moment until Tommy has to ask. “Did you talk to Ada?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Polly turns around in search for an ashtray and Tommy can see her pursing her lips, carefully considering her next move.

Before she can answer, Tommy’s phone goes off. There is no name showing, but Tommy knows the number by heart. Alfie.

Polly just gives him a wave of her hand à la _we’ll talk later_ and Tommy walks out through the hallway to take the call.

“Alfie. Why are you calling.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, ‘s this an unfitting time for you, mate? Should I have talked to your secretary first?”

Tommy sighs. He doesn’t have time for this right now. “Get to the point, Alfie.”

“Fuck, you’re in a mood. Alright.” There’s a grunt and then the creaking of what must presumably be his desk chair. “I want Ollie in.”

“Ollie.” Tommy perks up. “In on what.”

“Don’t fucking play dumb with me, Tommy.” Alfie says, getting agitated. “In on the action. The trouble, the heist. The _casino_. I don’t know, mate. But I want one of my men in on your plan, too.”

Tommy doesn’t like this in the least, though he did expect something of the sort coming up. He calculated for it, even. He would have done the same if he were in Alfie’s position, hell, he wouldn’t finance a crazy heist of this sort without an inside man.

He did his research when he first met Alfie, and naturally, he dug into Ollies past too, since the boy was basically Alfie’s right-hand-man for reasons still unknown to Tommy. Know your enemies and all that. That’s the reason Tommy knew that Ollie worked for diverse security firms in their IT department before getting arrested for software piracy, identity theft and good old hacking – and deciding to follow a less legitimate business path after that. Paying off police officers in return for information really was an essential part in their line of work.

Tommy pretends to think about it for a few moments. “Alright.”

Alfie stays still on the other end of the line. “Mhm, yeah. Alright.” He hums.

Tommy forces himself not to smirk, even though no one but the cars in the parking lot can see him.

“That’s good then. Does he have any useful skills besides being your shadow?”

“He’s as weak as a new-born kitten and occasionally gets a bit skittish when there’s a lot of pressure on him, but other than that, ‘s good lad. Sometimes he talks too much when he’s stressed. Knows how to use a computer, though.” He says the last part with a conspiratorial undertone, as if he’s offering Tommy brand new information.

Tommy pretends to consider it for a moment and doesn’t hide the smugness in his voice when he says, “Good. Very fitting. We could use someone like that.”

Alfie must’ve figured out that Tommy was a step ahead of him, because after a beat of silence, there was a crash and then a dull smashing sound.

“Could you?” Alfie’s voice was infuriatingly calm, like he didn’t just threw god knows what against his wall. “That’s awfully convenient.”

“It really is. Who would’ve thought?”

It was a gamble, Tommy knows. Assuming that Alfie agreed to help him, and furthermore, that he would want one of his people to be in on the action, too. But that was a risk Tommy was willing to take. If Alfie didn’t offer Ollie, he could’ve found someone else without problem. This little ploy was purely for his own gain. Alfie’s realization that Tommy already considered Alfie’s steps beforehand was the greatest satisfaction he had all month.

“Yeah, who would’ve fucking thought.”

“We need access to the camera feed of the casino. I should hope he can do it.”

“'Course he can fucking do it.”

“Good.” Tommy looks at his watch before remembering that Alfie can’t see him. “Would you like to discuss anything else? I have an appointment this evening.”

“Yeah. Shove that smug satisfaction up your ass.”

“Don’t be late tomorrow.” Tommy hums as an answer. “And don’t forget to bring Ollie.”

Alfie hangs up.


	6. fifth street

**fifth street** _(noun)_

_(card games)_ The last card dealt to the board in community card games.

The airport is bustling with movement and crowds of travellers, half of which are desperate to get to their destination on time; the other half consists of sleepy, jet-lagged people trying to find their way in the big hall. Tommy blends in with a few fast-paced businessmen as he makes his way over to the terminal Ada should arrive on. He spots her after the first mass of passengers swarm by.

She doesn’t see him at first and Tommy doesn’t make himself known for the next few minutes as he follows her. She turns a few corners, then stops abruptly and shakes her head. Tommy can’t see her face, but the resignation she emits purely with her stance is palpable.

“I saw you following me since the pretzel stand.” Ada says instead of a greeting as she walks over to the souvenir shop Tommy hovers in front of. “You’re losing your edge, Tommy.”

She’s out of the game, sure. “Thought you’re out of practice?”

She doesn’t answer but hugs him nonetheless, so Tommy counts it as a win.

Without another word, Ada leads the way over to a little café, hidden between fast-food restaurants, and signals the waiter over to order herself a cup of tea. “I should have known that you’re behind all of this. Normally, Polly doesn’t randomly call me to come here in the middle of the week.”

“It's nice to see you, too.” Tommy says to that, and surprises himself by really meaning it.

He _missed_ Ada, has even before he went to prison, when she decided to continue her life in more legal environments. She’d been pregnant with Karl and decided to step out of the business entirely to live with Freddie and her son.

He didn’t know how much he valued her opinion and her occasional stern talking to when he made – in her opinion – questionable business decisions until she was gone.

Tommy opens his mouth but Ada interrupts him before he can start.

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested.” She says without waiting for Tommy’s proposal.

“You didn’t even let me explain.”

“I don’t need to.” She says with determination in her voice. “You’re out of prison how long? A few days? No, Tommy. Whatever it is, it's fuelled by your obsession to get back into the game or revenge or some other stupid reason.”

She wasn’t _entirely_ wrong, Tommy has to admit. Not that the tells her.

“I’ve had enough time to think of a fool proof plan. Did you think I was wasting my time in prison by wallowing away?” He leans forward and tilts his head. “I thought this through, Ada. It's perfect. More than perfect.”

Ada chews on her lip, keeps her eyes guarded. “Tommy- “

“If you aren’t in, I’ll just find somebody else who isn’t going to be quite as good as you for the job, and you can be on your way back to your doting husband.” Ada gives him a warning look at the jab at Freddie but lets it slide otherwise. Tommy can see her struggling with herself. She wouldn’t still be here if she weren’t at least a tad bit interested.

“I know you’re curious, Ada.”

“ _Curiosity killed the cat_.” She fires back.

“Yes, curiosity killed the cat _,_ ” Tommy says and leans forward to look at her intently, “ _but satisfaction brought it back_.”

She stays quiet for a moment, eyes narrowed, mouth opening and closing, as if she wanted to says something but thought better of it. Finally, she empties her teacup and puts some money on the table. Standing up, she pulls her coat back on, the fine fur lining betraying her now seemingly modest lifestyle.

“Fine. I’ll listen to your plan, Tommy, but I can't promise you anything.”

Tommy gives her the ghost of a smile. “We’re meeting tomorrow evening, _Watery Lane_.” He watches her put on her gloves and she gives him a last calculating look before she takes her leave.

Tommy leans back in his chair. Ada makes eleven. That should do it.


	7. deal

**deal** _(noun, verb)_

  1. An arrangement for mutual advantage.
  2. _(card games)_ To distribute cards to players in accordance with the rules of the game being played.
  3. _(card games)_ A single instance of a game of poker, begun by shuffling the cards and ending with the award of a pot. Also called a _hand_ (though both terms are ambiguous).



Alfie meeting the rest of the group had gone … less than ideal.

It wasn’t a complete catastrophe, but it came close. Nobody was killed or significantly injured, which was definitely a success Tommy’s book.

Rather than gradually warming everybody up to Alfie, Tommy decided to just throw everybody into cold water. Mostly, it went civil, though Alfie sure as hell wasn’t making it easy on Tommy.

While he only got a few raised eyebrows from Lizzie and Ada, Finn and Isiah watch Alfie closely with barely concealed interest, never having met the man before. John brought Esme along, who keeps insisting that _messing with these London-gangsters is no fucking good_ under her breath, never mind the fact that currently none of them are in London, even less England right now. She still holds old resentments from the time they still made business in their hometown over the pond.

“What the fuck is _he_ doing here, Tommy?“ Artur has by far the most expressive reaction to Alfie being present and John has to physically hold him back before he punches Alfie square in the face.

“He’s here because he is part of the team now.” Tommy doesn’t have to look over to see the smug look on Alfie’s face; he can practically _feel_ it. His condescending behaviour also doesn’t help ease the hostility in the room.

“Solomons a cutthroat traitor, is what he is- “

“He is a fucking bastard!”

“A lunatic son of a- ”

“I’m still here, you realize? You _invited_ me here.” Alfie interrupts. “You don’t have to talk about me in the third person. S’not nice, you know? A man can get identity problems ‘cause of you.”

He resolutely ignores Tommy’s glare and goes on. “I don’t like being here either, but a man has to take chance when he sees one, so here I fucking am. I’m happy to help people in need – which all of you clearly are - and also: the past is the past,” he goes on, dramatically, “so go cry about it in the shower or some other place of your choosing, but don’t- ”

“Just _shut the fuck up_.” Tommy hisses to Alfie and then he’s rewarded with an indignant look at his interruption to Alfie’s speech. He ignores it and doesn’t wait for Alfie’s rebuttal; just tells Lizzie to keep the rest of the group in check before he grabs Arthur and John by the arms and pulls them into another room. He snips his fingers at Isiah and Finn to signal them to come too. Polly follows, too.

“You asked _him_ before you asked us?” Arthur shouts as the door closes behind them. “So this fucking shithead is more important to you than your own brothers? Is that it, Tommy?”

“Arthur-“ Tommy says warningly.

“I can't fucking believe you, Tommy, what the hell? Solomons? The fucker who crossed you? Who got _me_ thrown into fucking prison?” He stalks around the room like he wants to trash it. “He probably had a hand in getting you into prison too!”

“Fuck, Tommy, he's right. I’m not doing it if Solomons is in.” John was sticking to giving him the cold shoulder instead of shouting, not that that’s better. Polly is watching them, silent for now, looking forward to how Tommy was going to handle it.

“Just shut up and fucking listen to me, both of you.” He doesn’t have to address Finn and Isiah; they just sit on the couch and watch the scene between the three brothers unfold.

Finn doesn’t look too pleased either about the situation, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut for the moment. Isiah looks like he is watching a _very_ entertaining movie and is just missing the popcorn bag.

“I came to him first, because we _need_ him to be in, or otherwise, the plan won't work.” He continues before either of them can interrupt. “And, fuck, I need you for this, too, but I knew you were in. I knew I could trust you, because we’re _family_.” He walks up to Arthur and puts a hand on the back of his neck. He isn’t shouting anymore, but his voice is no less insistent. “So, don’t come here and complain to me about minor details, like me apparently favouring Alfie over you, because you have it _wrong_. I need you, too.”

Arthur is still breathing heavily and his jaw is twitching, but he doesn’t disagree with Tommy. He looks over at John, who’s brows are still furrowed, but he doesn’t speak up either. He just shrugs, and doesn’t look at Tommy. That has to count for something.

“Get it together, it’s going to be more than worth it. _Now_ , if there are no more complaints,” he says, implying that there better shouldn’t be any, “then we’ll all continue this meeting in the main room with everybody else.”

Arthur grinds his jaw but smoothes his hair back and nods as he turns around to leave.

“ _Alfie_ , hm?” Polly says quietly as they make their way back to the gambling room. “When did you get to first name basis?” Instead of answering, Tommy just walks past her and tries to ignore the heat creeping up his neck.

He'd wondered the same thing himself, long ago.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the 3000 block of Las Vegas Boulevard, otherwise known as the Bellagio, the Mirage, and the MGM Grand.” Tommy points to the TV screen on the far side of the gambling room. “Together, they are three of the most profitable casinos in Las Vegas.”

The tumult from the beginning died down eventually. Alfie sits in an armchair at one side of the room with Ollie duly standing behind him. He looks a tad more put together than usual, which really isn’t saying anything. His suspenders are well-worn and his shirt is partly bunched up under them, like he didn’t much care how he put them on this morning.

While Alfie took his place at one side of the room, Arthur is on the opposite side of the room next to John. Everybody else is spread out in between on various surfaces.

He pulls up a floor plan of one of the casinos. “This is the vault of the Bellagio. It's located beneath 150 feet of solid earth. It safeguards every penny that passes through each of the three casinos above it.”

“Well, fuck me.” John whistles. Apparently, the feud about Alfie joining in are currently put on hold at the prospect of a new job.

“Now, here is the plan. Bad news first.” Tommy points at the screen. “This place houses a security system that rivals most nuclear missile silos. Fist, we have to get within the casino cages. Which, anybody can tell you, takes more than a smile. Next, through these doors.” He pulls up the picture. “Each of which requires a different six-digit code, changed every twelve hours. Past _those_ lies the elevator. Now here is where it gets tricky.”

“Oh, yeah, the things before that were kindergarten.” Tommy hears Arthur mumble.

“The elevator won't move without authorized fingerprint identification.” He continues.

“Which we can't fake.” Polly adds helpfully.

“And we need vocal confirmation from both the security system within the Bellagio _and_ the vault below.”

“Which we won't get.”

“Furthermore, the elevator shaft is rigged with motion detectors.”

“Oh shit.” Ollie whispers, and Tommy almost misses it, too caught up in the flow of his own explanation. He points a finger at him. “Yes, exactly. Would you like to elaborate why that is a problem?”

Ollie looks like a deer in the headlights. It's less a question for the answers sake and more like a strong request for Ollie to show what he knows. It’s a test to see if he can deliver on the promises that Alfie made in his name.

“That, uh- that means that if we were to manually override the lift, the shaft’s exit would probably lock down automatically, and we’d be trapped.” Ollies seems to be a nervous wreck by the time he gets the sentence out. Tommy saw the boy acting with composure many times, but right now, he has the pressure to of being the new one, of giving the right information and to not fuck up in front of his boss.

Polly throws Tommy a nod that says _alright, not bad._

“Yes, exactly.” Tommy adds. “Now once we get down the shaft, though, well then it's a piece of cake. Just two more guards with guns and the most elaborate vault door ever conceived by man.”

Tommy looks into the round. “Any questions?”

Everybody looks caught off guard, but eventually, John asks, “What about … just digging a tunnel underneath the whole thing?”

“Tunnelling is out. There are sensors monitoring the ground, a hundred yards in every direction. A groundhog would nest there, they’d know about it. Anyone else?”

“You said something about good news?” Lizzie asks with a raised eyebrow.

Tommy nods at the question and crosses his hands. Now it gets interesting.

“The Nevada Gaming Commission stipulates that a casino must hold and reserve enough cash to cover every chip that's played on its floor. That means on a weekday – by law – it has to carry anywhere between sixty to seventy million in cash and coin. On the weekend, it has to carry anywhere between eighty and ninety million, and on a fight night, like the one in three weeks from tonight, the night we're going to rob it: one hundred and fifty million.”

Someone lets out a long whistle, but Tommy isn’t done. “And that’s only the legal side. Sabini has enough ways of laundering money, as we all know. We don’t know for sure, but maybe he keeps those in the casino too, because he’s either paranoid or stupid.”

“Or both.” John sniggers. It gets him a laugh from Arthur and Finn and a clap on the back of his head from Polly, although she has difficulty keeping a smile off her face.

“I have a question.” Alfie – who has been surprisingly and suspiciously quiet until now – says, keeping his hands relaxed on his cane. “Let’s say we get into the cage, yeah? And through the security doors there and down the elevator we can't move, right, and past the guards with the guns, and into the vault we can't open- “

“Without being seen by the cameras.” Polly interjects.

“Yes, I forgot to mention that.” Tommy adds.

Alfie almost looks startled for a second there. “Yeah well, say we do all that. Then we're just- supposed to walk out of there with a few hundred million in cash on us, without getting stopped?”

Every face in the room turns to look at Tommy, whose lips give a light twitch.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Alfie blinks. “Sure. Okay.”

No one says anything. Everybody is focused on Tommy.

“Alright. You’re probably wondering how exactly we’re going to do it.” He pulls up another slide on the screen. “To accomplish all of that, we have to execute a series of tasks.” Tommy continues. “Number one: reconnaissance.”

He points at Lizzie. “That will be your primary duty. I want inside information on the places where only the staff has access to. I want to know everything that's going on in all three casinos, form the rotation of the dealers to the path of every cash cart, I want to know about everything about every guard, anyone with a security pass. I want to know where they're from, what their nicknames are, how they take their coffee, and most of all,” he takes a breath for the sake of suspension, and looks into the round, “I want you to _know_ these casinos. They're built to keep people in, I want you to know the quick routes out.”

Tommy waves a hand at Polly, who stands up and continues.

“Second task: power. On the night of the fight, we’re going throw the switch on sin city. Arthur and John, it’s your show.”

“You want broke, blind or bedlam?” John asks.

“How about all three?”

“Alright. Done.” He grins and Arthur claps his hands together.

“Then,” Tommy says, “the third task. Surveillance. Casino security has an eye and ear on everyone, so we want an eye and ear on them.”

He turns to face Ollie, who suddenly looks alert as the attention is on him again. “That will be your primary job.” He dutifully nods.

“Task four: construction. We need to build an exact working replica of the Bellagio vault.”

“For practice?”

“Something like that.” Polly tilts her head at Tommy’s cryptic answer but stays silent.

“Fifth task, intelligence.” He turns to Ada, who has kept to the background so far. “We need those codes, Ada, from the only guy who has all three.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Sabini himself?”

“Learn to love his shadow.”

“So, I just … watch him?” She says, hesitating.

“That’s it for now, you’ll get to do more later.” Tommy answers.

“Sixth task. Transport. Finn and Isiah, you need to get us a cars, preferably three nondescript vans.”

The two youngest members perk up at being assigned a task.

“That’s the agenda for now. We’ll talk about further details when we are set up on the rough outline.” Tommy concludes. “Now, if everyone is satisfied for the moment, help yourself on drinks and food. We have three busy weeks ahead.”

And just like that, the room springs into action again, as if Tommy was a school teacher releasing his class for break.

“And this whole operation is graciously financed by me, if I may add that.” Alfie grumbles, although no one but Ollie and Tommy seem to pay him any mind, too busy studying the blueprints and information available.

“Not the moment.” Tommy quietly says as he takes a step towards him.

“Tommy, sweetheart, if I’m going to play sugar daddy, the least I want is a bit of gratitude in return.”

“You’ll get enough gratitude when we’re finished with this heist.”

“Is that a promise, Tommy?” Alfie’s says, smug smile on his face, and Tommy could punch himself for his unfortunate phrasing. He had it coming.

“Fuck off.”

“Getting coy?”

Tommy crosses his arms and lazily throws Alfie a glare. Alfie doesn’t look at him, just keeps an eye out for eventual murder attempts from Arthur, it seems.

“So. What do you think?” Tommy says after a beat of silence. He doesn’t really _need_ Alfie’s opinion, but he’s curious nonetheless.

Alfie licks his lips and brings a hand up to scratch his beard. “You fishing for compliments here, Tommy? Want me to congratulate you on your brilliant plan?”

“So you think it’s brilliant.”

“I’d say ambitious and not at all reasonable, but alright. If you consider that brilliant, the go ahead.”

“It is.” Tommy doesn’t know what else to say, but as it turns out, he doesn’t have to, because Alfie is filling the silence between them before the awkwardness can take hold.

“He’s my nephew. _Goliath._ ” Alfie says. “He trained years for such an opportunity, and then his uncle comes in, snaps his fingers, and boom. Fight’s ruined.”

“Just send him a condolences card with a few million, I’m sure he’ll manage.”

“Why don’t you send him one? S’your plan, after all.” Alfie says, lips twitching up.

Someone clears their throat and Tommy almost jumps at the interruption. Polly waves him over with a raised eyebrow.

He ignores the unfamiliar, strange flip in his chest when Alfie’s eyes follow him as he makes his way over to the others again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just imagining what went on in the main room while Tommy and the boys were away. Just Alfie and Ollie in the same room with Ada, Lizzie and Esme. Must’ve been a strange conversation, lmao.
> 
> Sooo. We finally got everybody together! The roles I gave everyone are slightly different to the movie, but roughly it's:
> 
> Tommy – Danny  
> Polly – Rusty  
> Lizzie – Frank  
> Alfie – kind of a mix between Reuben and Saul  
> Ada – Linus   
> Finn and Isiah – Virgil and Turk  
> Ollie – Livingston  
> Arthur and John – Basher  
> Esme – Yen
> 
> Just for clarification.


	8. equity

**equity** _(noun)_

  1. _(card games)_ One's mathematical expected value from the current deal, calculated by multiplying the amount of money in the pot by one's probability of winning. If a split is possible, the equity also includes the probability of winning a split times the size of that split.
  2. Justice according to natural law or right. Specifically: freedom from bias or favouritism.



“Let’s go out for a smoke, Tommy, shall we?”

Tommy meets Alfie’s casual suggestion with a raise of his eyebrows and decides to follow him wordlessly out of the room.

The group meeting did end eventually and Alfie stuck around quite long, much to Arthurs chagrin. Apart from a few rage-filled glances and grunts, nothing else passed between the two men as Arthur and John took their leave.

The prospect of a few million more in everybody’s pocket really was a good meditator for a least an evening.

The parking lot outside was empty save for Polly’s and Tommy’s cars. Even though the sun was long gone, the heat of the day still hung in the air, heavy and humid. The roaring of the cars from the street was damped, though it was far from quiet.

Las Vegas came alive at night; the lights got switched on and the dancers started to prepare for their shift in one of the countless night clubs strewn across the city. For tourists, it was edgy, exciting and new; for the workers, it was just a day like any other, a routine to perform.

There was a whole city of entertainment and sin behind them, yet it feels far away when the only thing in front of them was a spacious parking lot surrounded by brick walls and the building at their back.

Alfie takes a few steps away from the entrance and puts his hands into his pockets; Tommy brings a cigarette up between his lips and curses as he can't find his lighter.

“We have to talk about percentages.”

“Now who’s skipping the foreplay.” Tommy mumbles around his cigarette.

Alfie barks out a laugh and in one smooth move – faster than Tommy would have expected him to be – he is in front of Tommy holding up his own lighter to his face.

The sudden closeness makes him dizzy for a moment before he swallows and leans forward to let Alfie light up his cigarette. He smells faintly like vanilla, which Tommy didn’t expect at all, and it mixes remarkably well with the smoke from his cigarette. It feels oddly intimate, Alfie’s hand coming up to shield the flame, never mind that the air sits like a solid block over the parking lot an there isn’t a breeze to be felt.

“M’not skipping anything, treacle.”

The stand so close that it makes Alfie’s rough voice echo in Tommy’s head long after they part to talk business. He resists the urge to shake his head.

“So.” Tommy clears his throat and exhales a cloud of smoke. He doesn’t look at Alfie. “Percentages. What do you have in mind, then.”

“I want 50 percent of whatever we can get out of that vault.”

Gone is the strange moment of intimacy as Tommy whirls around with a frown on his face. “You want _what?_ ”

“Yeah, fuck, you heard me, don’t look so shocked. This is risky for me, y’know? This boxing match is the biggest event this month, maybe even the whole fucking year. I’m running all of the bets; these matches are my _thing_. Who the fuck knows how this is going to be influencing the game, so Sabini is bound to think I’m involved in this fuckery _somehow_.”

He angrily stubs a pebble away with his cane. “And also, I’m the one sponsoring your little affair, or did you forget how you came begging to me for help? I want 50 percent, nothing less.”

Tommy takes his cigarette, only half done, and flips it away.

Alfie gets his fucking blood boiling sometimes, hot and cold, up and down. The fucking _audacity._ It's unnerving. It makes his skin crawl, makes him furiously mad sometimes, the fact that Alfie can get all these different reactions out of him in such a short amount of time and _then_ he’s irritated at his anger towards Alfie. 

They haven’t even been outside for five minutes.

“You agreed, Alfie.” Tommy says, his voice tight. “You knew the risks, I told you.”

“Yeah, I agreed before I knew I’d be ruining me own nephews fight!”

“Oh, as if you give a fuck about that!” Tommy rolls his eyes. He’s surprised that Alfie took so long to bring up that particular detail.

“I’m risking to go back to prison for this, Alfie. _Everyone_ here does. And if this goes sideways, Sabini will think it's a hit against you and him together, so you don’t fucking exaggerate, you actually have it better if you manage to play it smart.” Tommy says. “12 percent, and that’s including the money you invested.”

“Who the _fuck_ do you think you’re talking to, boy!” Now the cane is a hair’s breadth away from Tommy’s face and he furiously bats it away. “ _13 percent._ ”

“15, then.” Tommy offers.

“45.”

“20.”

“Fucking bastard, you are!” Alfie growls. He looks like he wants to throw his arms up in rage. “30, last offer.”

“No.”

“You apparently lost your common _fucking_ sense in prison.” Alfie snarls and takes Tommy by the lapels of his coat. “ _30 percent_ and nothing less.”

“20 percent, Alfie, that’s a _fifth_ of the profit! That’s more than anyone else’s share!”

Not one to be outdone, Tommy grabs Alfie’s shirt in his fist. What ridiculous fucking picture they must make, two of the most well-known and dangerous gangsters in the city, grappling with each other like prepubescent schoolchildren in a parking lot.

“Go fuck yourself, you and your little family of wannabe gangsters wanting to play with the big boys again.” Alfie knocks him against the wall now, the rough brick unforgiving on Tommy’s fine suit jacket. He momentarily thinks about having underestimated the danger, but nobody pulled a gun or a knife yet, so it's not that serious. “I get more, because I have a lot more to lose than anybody else, now, do I?”

“If I didn’t turn up on your doorstep, you’d still labour away for Sabini, with no prospect of _ever_ improving your position, eh?”

They are the same height, but Alfie is a bit broader and heavier and he uses his full weight to keep Tommy pressed to the wall. He radiates so much heat and the shirt Tommy is clutching is slightly sweaty and Tommy doesn’t know if it’s been like that or if it’s from his own palms.

“Oh, yes, your highness Thomas Shelby, the knight in shining armour! What would I do without you, your majesty?” The mocking tone in Alfie’s voice makes Tommy’s head pound, but the warmth of his body is so unexpected that it makes him swallow the lump in his throat.

Alfie heaves out a breath and Tommy has to supress the shiver that runs up his spine, hot and fast.

“30.”

“20.”

“ _30_ ,” He tightens his hold on Tommy’s jacket, “you listen to me, you little- “

“20,5” Tommy says with a sudden impulse, looking Alfie square in the eyes.

“You- “ And then he has to stop, because Tommy can see his jaw clenching and his lips quirking up. He presses his lips together and turns his face away from Tommy, but not before Tommy can spot the amused twinkle in his eyes.

He slowly lets out a breath and licks his lips. Tommy tracks the movement with his eyes, not even realizing he’s staring until Alfie looks up again. He starts to smirk as he catches Tommy looking, but decides not to mention it.

 _Thank fuck_ , he doesn’t mention it, because adrenaline, Tommy realizes, makes him do very strange things from time to time.

“20,5 percent.” Alfie finally says, voice calmer than before but no less firm. “I get the money I invested back first, and with interest. You leave _all_ of the boxing matches to me in the future. If you even so much as _try_ to dip a finger in that I’ll- “

“Yes, you’ll do something unspeakably terrible to my head or my balls or another part of my body. I get the picture, Alfie, you’ve threatened me before.”

“Yeah, well, I still mean ‘em, don’t fucking forget that.” Now that they aren’t hurling insults at each other, the position they’ve found each other in starts to slowly really register with the coherent part of Tommy’s brain.

“I could never.” Tommy says. “So, we have a deal?”

“Hm. Yes we have.” Alfie says. He doesn’t loosen his grip or makes any move to separate them, so Tommy shoves Alfie’s hands off his coat and steps away from the wall awkwardly.

Tommy’s whole body longs after another cigarette and he curses his former self for throwing away his half-smoked cigarette, but hell is he going to ask Alfie to light him up another one.

“Yes, well, since this is done now, I don’t think I’m needed here, anymore, so…” Alfie trails off and makes some aborted gestures with his hands.

“Yes.” Tommy says a bit too loudly, almost startling himself, and then he doesn’t know what else to says, so he just says “yes” again.

“Yes.” Alfie repeats, and they sound like a pair of fucking parrots talking to each other, don’t they, so Tommy straightens his coat and decides to get back inside. Alfie nods, takes his cane but doesn’t move, just stares at Tommy and says nothing. Tommy turns on his heel and forces himself not to look back as he makes his way into the gambling room.

20,5 percent.

 _20,5 percent_ is far too fucking much and Tommy doesn’t know why he settled for it so easily. They didn’t even really negotiate, just threw numbers at each other while standing too close for Tommy’s liking.

 _Fuck_. Polly is going to kill him.

Tommy swallows again and almost rips his shirt as he scrambles to undo the first two buttons of his shirt. It’s hot and the air inside is even more stuffy but he tells himself it’s because of the summer, and not anything else.

His cheeks tingle from Alfie’s warm breath and he can still feel the texture of his shirt as he rubs his fingers together.

He balls his hand into a fist.

What the _fuck_.


	9. cut card

**cut card** _(noun)_

 _(card games)_ A distinctive card, usually stiff solid-coloured plastic, held against the bottom of the deck during the deal to prevent observation of the bottom card. While rarely used in home games, the cut card is universal in casino play.

Someone brought a fucking whiteboard to the warehouse and put it next to the coffee machine.

It does a good job of distracting Tommy from the fuckery that was his conversation with Alfie, albeit just for a short moment. He was running on excitement and tension and that’s the _only_ reason for his strange reaction after the talk in the parking lot. That’s all.

He focuses back onto the board in front of him.

Tommy didn’t know who brought it here and he doesn’t have the energy nor the motivation to find out. It looks like someone had a spurt of sudden desire to organize the whole planning process but surrendered after the first two days.

_~~Get access to camera feed (esp. hallway, vault, high roller table, Sabinis office, etc)~~ _

_~~Record hallway and elevator~~ _

_~~Make chips and equipment for vault model~~ _

_ollie + isiah + finn modify van no 2_

_~~KICK SOLOMONS ASS~~ _

_~~FUCK OFF YOU PIECE OF SHIT  
~~ _

_~~YOU FUCK OFF~~ ASSHOLE_

_buy flyers for strippers?? Tommy why EXPLAIN_

_fix coffee machine_

Lizzie’s shoes announce her arrival and she walks up to him and takes the cigarette Tommy offers her without a word. She shakes her head at the whiteboard and drags a hand down her face.

“Before you ask, I have no idea.” Lizzie says, gesturing towards the board.

“I honestly couldn’t care less right now.” Tommy says and lights first her and then his own cigarette.

He takes a deep drag and leans back against the counter of the little improvised kitchen. For a moment, he and Lizzie stand side by side in companionable silence, watching the mess that was once one of Alfie’s rum storages and is now – just weeks later – a testament to Tommy’s outrageous desire to metaphorically give Sabini the middle finger.

“What did you find out?”

Lizzie hums. “Fuck, you couldn’t even let me finish my first smoke before it's back to business.” She sighs and puts her cigarette back between her lips before reaching for her bag and pulling out her journal.

“About the security badge.” She starts. “We might have an in. They employ two house technicians and one of them visits the _Sapphire_ on the regular, we could get one of the girls to swipe the card.”

“Perfect. Call ‘em.”

“Already done.”

“Good.” Tommy stubs out his cigarette. “Tell me about Sabini.”

“He was a sleazy bastard, but the man turned into a fucking machine, Tommy. He got organized.” She turns a page. “He arrives at the Bellagio every day at two pm. Same car, same driver. Remembers every valet’s name on the way in. Not bad for a guy worth three quarters of a billion, if you ask me.”

“Has to keep his legitimate front up and running.”

Lizzie hums in agreement. “Offices are upstairs, he holds a few meetings and then hits the lobby floor at 7:00 on the nose. He spends three to five minutes on the floor with his casino manager.”

“What do they talk about?”

“All business. Sabini likes to know what’s going on in his casinos, likes to be in control. There’s rarely an incident he doesn’t know about or handle personally. He spends a few minutes sweet-talking the high rollers. He’s fluent in Italian, Spanish, German and he’s learning Mandarin right now, he’s getting pretty good at it.” She turns another page and throws Tommy a look.

“He’s out by 7:30 when an assistant hands him a black portfolio. Contents are the days take and the new security codes.” She takes a last look at the page and then closes the journal. “Lastly, he heads to the restaurant to eat or back up to his room, depends on the day.”

She crosses her hands in front of her and goes back to her cigarette. “Like I said. A machine. And that’s just what I could find out, and I have more access to him than any of you do.”

Tommy narrows his eyes at the floor. “That portfolio contains the codes to all the vault doors?”

“Yes. And two minutes after they’ve been changed, he has them in his hands. I’m telling you, you really can pick ‘em.”

“He shouldn’t have locked me up, his fault.”

Lizzie shakes her head. “The last guy they caught cheating in here, Sabini not only sent him up for ten years, but he had the bank seize his house, and then he bankrupted- “

“-bankrupted his brother-in-law’s tractor dealership. I heard.”

Lizzie stands in front of him now, eye to eye. She seems almost angry. “Yes, he doesn’t just take out your knees, he goes after your livelihood and the livelihood of anybody you ever met.”

“You scared?”

“You suicidal?” She fires back.

“Only in the morning.”

Lizzie shakes her head and stays quiet while she puts her journal back into her purse. “Do you know what you’re doing, Tommy?” She asks, fully unprompted. “Because I’m not convinced that you do.”

Always straight to the point, it was with Lizzie. He’d resented her for it, at first. Now he admires her, although he'd never, in a thousand years, tell her. He has a feeling that she knows anyways.

“Then why are you here?” He asks, and he genuinely likes to know.

“That’s a good fucking question.” She says, half exasperated and half incredulous. She doesn’t walk away, though, and Tommy doesn’t know what to say to her, so they wait side-by-side in amicable silence for the day to begin.


	10. eye in the sky

**eye in the sky** **_(noun)_**

  1. A term given to casino and other commercial security closed circuit cameras. In casinos, they are positioned to monitor seats, tables, hallways, restaurants, and even elevators closely.
  2. Watches the action as the casino staff surveys the floor.



They decide to meet in a suite in one of Alfie’s hotels.

Alfie greets him with a grunt and a mumbled _evenin’ Thomas_ as he beckons him inside. The suite isn't the biggest one in the hotel, but it has considerably more space than a normal room.

Tommy places his coat on the backrest of a plush armchair. The lights are dimmed and the place is basked in the warm glow from the lamp on one of the bedside tables. The dark wood furniture should make the room feel cramped and suffocating, but instead makes it homely and surprisingly comfortable.

Whereas Tommy is in a full three-piece suit, Alfie is wearing a shirt – haphazardly buttoned – and a pair of well-worn dark trousers. His reading glasses are dangling on the little gold chain around his neck and he looks less like a feared gangster-boss, Tommy thinks, and more like someone’s weird uncle who comes to funerals and tells you an eccentric story about the deceased and then fucks off again.

“Ollie’s on his way over.” Alfie says, and Tommy is glad he’s breaking the silence.

After their argument on the parking lot, Tommy doesn’t know how to behave, and that fact alone makes him furious with indignation. Why the fuck this odd, absurd man could catch him so off guard was a mystery Tommy was not keen on solving.

He couldn’t wait until this unavoidable partnership would be over.

Alfie doesn’t notice anything of Tommy’s inner conflict and offers him a glass of whiskey which Tommy gratefully accepts with a curt nod.

“You think he can do it?” Tommy isn’t hiding his skepticism. “He seemed pretty nervous at the meeting.”

“Oi, trust me, I know he looks like a wet blanket sometimes, but the lad knows what he’s doing.” Alfie says, and how he makes the sentiment sound insulting and defensive at the same time is an accomplishment in itself.

“You really think I’d pay to keep some incompetent fucker around? I’m not a fucking charity.” He points at Tommy and takes a seat at the table. His cane is nowhere to be seen, so he must be having a good day.

Tommy doesn’t have to answer, because there is a faint knock on the door. Out of reflex, Tommy’s fingers itch to grab the gun in his holster and he can see Alfie wanting to do the same.

“It's me, boss.” The voice on the other end of the door mutters.

After ushering the boy inside they don’t waste time to get to business. Ollie takes out _three_ different notebooks and a few other technical supplies that neither Tommy nor Alfie know about, but clearly pretend to do.

“Alright,” Ollie clears his throat. “so, I did some research, and it's not the _least_ accessible security system I have ever seen, but it comes close.” He looks between Alfie and Tommy for a moment before he continues. “I don’t suppose they have a closed-circuit feed I could tap into?”

“No.” Tommy replies, and he is silently glad that Lizzie gave him that piece of information so he doesn’t stand here like an idiot.

“Right. Then it's definitely a black-bag job. We need to get inside.” Ollie says. Tommy can tell he is still nervous, but now that he is right in his element, he’s getting more confident. “Do they employ any in-house technicians?”

“Two. And one of them is lonely.”

“And that means?” Alfie asks.

“He’s been visiting the _Sapphire Club_ at least three times each week. Lizzie still has some friends there; I’ll tell her to get one of the girls to nick his security-badge.” If Alfie wonders what Lizzie’s connection to a well-known strip club and thinly disguised brothel is, he either doesn’t ask or comes to a conclusion by himself.

“So.” Alfie claps his hands together and Ollie jumps. “You’re going to play dress-up and take a little business trip, boy.”

Ollie looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole.

The next time Tommy visits Alfie’s room, he is greeted by a big brown mastiff watching him from the carpet, cool as a cucumber.

Tommy _knew_ that Alfie had a dog; he mentioned him so many times that Tommy felt like he knew the dog just from the second-hand stories he was told against his will.

“Fucking useless dog, don’t even bark when there’s someone at the door.” Alfie mumbles as he leads Tommy inside. The dog doesn’t seem to mind Alfie’s disappointment, just whines a bit and keeps exactly where he currently lounges.

“Cyril, that’s Thomas Shelby.” He gestures to Tommy. “Tommy, that’s Cyril. He’s a horrid watchdog but a good companion. Go and acquaint yourself with each other while I get the room service, would you?” Alfie’s says, and walks away.

It leaves Tommy and Cyril facing each other, like this was a completely normal thing that just happens, Alfie introducing Tommy to his dog like he would introduce him to a business partner at a formal event. Tommy shakes his head and stops staring at Cyril to take off his coat and hang it up on a hook this time.

He has to admit, he’s quietly amused by the situation. If he took Alfie’s stories at face value, the dog in front of him should be a dangerous, barking predator, as big as a wolf, ready to pounce whatever threat is in front of him. He should be defending Alfie against whatever menacing peril he faces and show no mercy.

The dog – _Cyril_ – Tommy reluctantly corrects, is interested in precisely _none_ of theses things, just keeps lazily watching Tommy from his place in the middle of the carpet, tail wagging from time to time.

“All done?” Alfie asks and Tommy throws a last look at Cyril before he walks over to where Ollie’s notebook is open on the table.

“Did you want us to exchange business cards and talk about the weather?” Tommy replies, taking a seat next to Alfie.

“He’s a member of this team now, too.”

“He’s really not.” Tommy decidedly says as he puts the headphones in and hands Alfie one of the earpieces.

Their fingers touch for a moment and Tommy pulls his hand back as if he burned himself. He’s not some fair maiden in a trashy romance novel, for fucks sake.

Alfie just throws him a look and a raised eyebrow that Tommy resolutely ignores.

Alfie’s phone blinks with a message from Ollie. He’s inside the casino. Now they just have to wait for him to get into the maintenance room and get them access to the camera feed.

It's a slow and torturous wait and Tommy tries to stay still and focus on the screen of the notebook, which doesn’t show anything besides a tacky background at this point. Still, it's better than having to look directly at Alfie. He can hear deep breaths beside him, steady and regular.

“Takes his time, the lad, doesn’t he…” Alfie murmurs, and it’s quiet but the disruption startles Tommy out of his thoughts.

He must’ve made a sound, because now Alfie is looking at him, full on staring. Fuck him, Tommy thinks, why did he have to be so _intense_ all the time? He silently curses the headphones they have to share for making it impossible to move away from Alfie.

Tommy clenches his jaw so hard it almost hurts. He can hear his own heart beating in his ears, and he chalks it up to the wait for a signal from Ollie and not the close proximity to Alfie and the dimmed lights in the room and Alfie’s fucking breath beside him and his arms flexing as he leans forward-

“And we’re up an’ running.”

Tommy’s eyes snap forward to the screen and, lo and behold, a bland hallway shows up. Tommy exhales deeply. Nothing else happens for a while.

“Why do they always paint hallways that kind of colour? Looks fucking hideous.” Alfie says, and he sounds so _irked_ about it that Tommy almost has to laugh.

“I hear that beige is very soothing.” He says instead.

Alfie shifts around and gives him a lazy smile, and he’s _so close_ , Tommy realizes, so fucking close to his face that Tommy can clearly see every detail on his face. Alfie’s scar on his cheek, the texture of his beard, his lips slightly parted. They’re both leaning forward on their elbows to watch the small screen and Tommy should really move away right now but Alfie doesn’t move, just keeps looking at him with lazy eyes.

Alfie’s gaze moves down to Tommy’s lips – unabashedly, as if this was such an ordinary situation to be in – before meeting Tommy’s eyes again, smile turning wicked-

“Boss, do you have a signal?”

Ollies voice shocks them both into the room again and Tommy has to clear his throat and straighten up. He sees Alfie swallow before answering and takes some relief in the fact that Alfie isn’t unaffected by whatever just happened.

“Yeah, all good.” Alfie says into the microphone on the headphone cable. The screen now shows various hallways and office spaces and most importantly: the vault.

“Now, boy, get back out before someone suspects anything.” He adds for good measure, but it's not like Ollie’s presence is that unusual in the technical area of the casino.

Plenty of maintenance to be done in a big place like this. They’ll only have a problem if Sabini personally spots Ollie. He might not recognize him on sight, but Ollie was with Alfie enough times when he met with Sabini that the probability is very high that he would remember Ollie and put two and two together.

Ollie starts his way back to get out of the casino. His movements are stilted and he walks as stiff as a robot. Once, he passes a security guard who greets him with a friendly _Hey_ , to which Ollie replies with _Great, thanks._

“He’s a wreck.” Tommy says. Alfie, for once, has the decency not to argue.

They watch Ollie move through the labyrinth of hallways to the exit. He makes a wrong turn three times before he’s finally on the right track.

Just as he is only meters way from the exit door, the security guy from before catches up with him.

“Hey.” The man says. Tommy clenches his fist and he can feel Alfie grabbing the armrest beside him. No one seems to breathe.

“Hey!” The guy now calls out more insistent. Ollie walks faster and ignores him. He must be drenched in sweat by now.

“Hey, man, wait a minute! Excuse me!” He catches up with him just before Ollie gets the door open.

_It's over now_ , Tommy thinks. _The plan failed because of a clumsy, nervous mess of a boy who can’t remember what fucking direction he has to go._

“Hey, you forgot this.” The security guy reaches for his pocket and pulls out one of the gadgets Ollie used to connect them to the camera feed.

“Oh. Thank you.” Ollies voice barely shakes as he takes the gadget carefully.

“How’s the reception on these things?”

“Excellent.” He clears his throat and nods enthusiastically.

“Alright, take care, man.” The security guy gives Ollie one last clap on the shoulder before he sends him on his way out.

He manages to get out of the casino without another hurdle.

“Well…” Tommy drops his earpiece and runs a hand over his face.

“Yeah.” Alfie lets out a breath of relief next to him and slumps into his chair.

Enough nerves for one evening, Tommy thinks.

Now that the thrill of yet another successful step fades out of Tommy’s system, exhaustion slowly settles back into his body.

“Told you he’d do it.”

“Barely. Don’t pat yourself on the back for this one.”

“You want a drink?” Alfie proposes instead of responding further to the topic of Ollie almost ruining the whole plan.

“Fuck, yes.” Tommy says and follows Alfie towards the small cabinet at the other side of the room.

“Thought you didn’t drink?” He nods towards the cabinet that’s filled to the brim with various kinds of alcoholic beverages. Alfie pours him a generous glass of whiskey and Tommy takes it with a critical look before taking a sip.

“I don’t. S’for company.”

“You have company over often, then?” Tommy says as he looks over the rim of his glass at Alfie.

Alfie suddenly laughs, leaning back onto the cabinet with his hands clasped in front of him and a look on his face that Tommy can’t decipher. “Yeah, sure, I have someone over every evening for a good fuck. What’s not to love?”

_Someone_ , he said. Not _woman._ Someone. Could be a man-

Tommy swallows. Forces the thought out of his head. Why the fuck did he care who Alfie had over?

“Although that kind of company usually gets presented with rum. What’s it to you? Why’re you so nosy all of a sudden?” Alfie asks with a lazy smile. “Did you want some rum instead, Tommy? Didn’t peg you for that kind of guy.”

Tommy feels his neck get hot, all of a sudden. The words _fun and fucking_ involuntarily echo in his mind, and he damns himself for it. What kind of bizarre pavlovian response to the mere mention of _rum_.

Good god.

“Oh, and you are?” Tommy says in an attempt to deflect from Alfie’s question. It’s not a smart move by any chance, but it is a move. It’s the only one he can think of over the blood pounding in his ears. Now that he thinks about it, it’s a really, _really_ bad move, since he didn’t deny the accusation at all.

“Don’t you listen to the rumours, Tommy?”

Of course, he did. It was hard not to. _I’m a complete fucking sodomite, mate._ Tommy assumed it was a joke, naturally. Who would be crazy enough to say something like that so casually and also, phrase it like that?

Alfie would, that’s who. Apart from that comment though, there was never another mention of Alfie possibly liking men; but on the other side, Tommy never made an indication that he himself was interested in them, so that wasn’t a good base to go from.

Tommy realizes that he still hadn’t answered Alfie’s question and Alfie just keeps looking at him, his eyebrows slowly crawling up. He knows how he’s fucking with Tommy; he fucking knows what he’s doing, and even thought that certainly isn’t news to Tommy, it makes him furious nonetheless.

Whatever punches Alfie threw, Tommy was always able to block or throw back. And he still could, make no mistake, but it got harder, now. Tommy didn’t know if it was because he got worse of Alfie got better.

“They’re only rumours.” Tommy finally says, doing his best to seem casual. He keeps his face blank.

Alfie smiles and quirks his lips up. The movement is barely visible under his beard. “Bit of truth in every rumour, though, isn’t there?”

Alfie is the one who’s doing most of the talking but Tommy feels like he’s the one who’s giving away _something_ in this conversation and he didn’t like it one bit. What exactly it was, he didn’t know, but it couldn’t be good. Alfie hasn’t moved away yet, just keeps leaning on the cabinet until it creaks.

“Suppose there is.” Tommy says.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Alfie inhales sharply before leaning back – when did he lean closer? – to take look around the room as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

Right. Ollie is back.

The spell – whatever the fuck it may have been – was broken as Alfie grunts and moves to open the door. With Alfie’s back to him, Tommy scrambles for a cigarette to calm his nerves. There was no reason to be so unsettled by a simple conversation.

Gaining information was key in Tommy’s business and that’s all this was. Knowing who Alfie had over on the regular could be important intel for further negotiations.

As he makes his way over to Ollie, Tommy slams a lid down over the feeling of disappointment that threatens to bubble up in his throat, hard and reflexive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, they could have just taken two different sets of headphones, but hey, then there wouldn’t be anything for Tommy to dramatically agonize over, would there? And I know it’s Danny and Rusty in the movie, but well, creative freedom. Thought it would be more fun with Alfie and Tommy.


	11. made hand

**made hand** _(noun)_

_(poker)_ A hand that does not need improvement to win.

“We have access to the camera feed.”

“Good. Finn and Isiah managed to get three vans. They even stayed in budget.”

“Any obstacles?” Tommy replies.

“No.” Polly says, “But I’m pretty sure they’re banned from at least five car dealerships in the city.”

Tommy hums. “Small loss.”

They step through the door of the warehouse – oh so very graciously provided by Alfie, Tommy is reminded by him on every possible occasion – where the construction work on the life-size model of the Bellagio has been in full progress the last few days. Its almost finished now, just a few little touches are missing.

“You’ll tell ‘em about the plan today?”

“I already did.” Tommy replies. “You were there, remember?”

“Oh, you know what I mean. The whole thing.” She takes a deep breath. “Don’t try me today, Tommy, I feel like I haven’t slept in a week.”

She rubs her temples with the hand that’s not busy holding her coffee. “Fuck, don’t get me wrong, I do what I can, but I also can’t wait until it’s over.”

“Soon you’ll have a few million more to cure your sleeplessness with silk sheets in presidential suites.”

“God, I can't wait.” Polly sighs, finishing her coffee and throwing the paper cup away.

“Speaking of money,” She continues suddenly _,_ “did you talk to Solomons about his share?”

Tommy’s mind is kicking into gear as he remembers his and Alfie’s conversation a few days ago. He wasn’t in the mood for this conversation, not _now_.

“Yes.”

She blinks. “And?”

“We had an agreement.”

When Tommy stays quiet, Polly gets more insistent. “What did you agree on? You told him he’d get 13 percent max, I hope?” Her voice makes her sound like she’s scolding a little child and it makes Tommy irrationally angry that she doubts his decisions.

“We had and agreement that he’s getting 20,5 percent.”

He doesn’t have to look at Polly to see her staring back at him. The coldness practically radiates from her head that’s slowly and deliberately tilting to the side. He can be glad that she’s already finished with her coffee, otherwise his shirt could have taken a few more rounds in the washing machine.

“Tommy- “ She says, her tone warning.

“It’s temporary. I’ll get him down to 13.” Tommy says, before Polly even opens her mouth.

“You better.” He leaves before Polly can lecture him further.

“Alright everyone.” The rest of the group has arrived by now and is scattered around the centre. “I haven't told you the full plan, so now you’ll be getting part two.”

All eyes are on him. It’s the first time since Tommy proposed the plan that everybody is gathered together again and the looks Arthur is sending Alfie are murderous at best. John and Esme are surprisingly okay with Alfie being part of the team, to Tommy’s surprise, which basically manifests in giving him the occasional grunt and the cold shoulder.

Alfie actually managed to make Lizzie laugh once, and the sight was so jarring and unexpected that Tommy got immediately suspicious, especially since they both turned to look at Tommy right after. Alfie just raised an eyebrow at Tommy’s frowning face while Lizzie spotted a wry smile and went back to smoking her cigarette. That’s an alliance that Tommy really doesn’t need at all.

Besides Lizzie, there’s only Ada who regularly – and without blatant malice in her voice – talks to Alfie, albeit just for business purposes.

Polly, next to Arthur, is by far the most skepical and hostile towards Alfie. Tommy’s announcement of the 20,5 percent share did nothing to put her at ease, understandably.

The general atmosphere seems to be that of a careful but wary truce all around. It’s better than Tommy expected, yet it feels like there is a pressure simmering under the surface, ready to break out if something should go wrong gravely. The prospect of 150 million is the common factor all around, so Tommy has to do his best to keep that goal in reach and unthreatened. He carefully puts everything that doesn’t concern today’s agenda to the back of his mind and continues.

“First things first: The model of the vault isn’t just for practice.”

“Shocker.” He could see Finn and Isiah exchanging money. Tommy sends them a glare for interrupting him before going on.

“We’re going make a video recording of the robbery. Then, we will play that for Sabini to see while we are robbing the casino for real.”

“We are robbing the casino and _show_ Sabini that we are robbing his casino … but on tape?” Ada says, clearly confused. The rest of the group doesn’t look much better.

“Yes.” Tommy continues. “We will rob his casino, but the main question you have to ask yourself is _how_ we are going to rob it. What we are filming is this: we put on black masks, storm the vault, shove the money into the bags and plant a few grenades on the bags. Polly will call Sabini from outside and offer him a deal.”

“Either he lets us leave with half of the money in his safe, or we will blow up everything.” Polly continues.

“Holy shit.” Ada says, eyes wide and impressed.

“Yeah.”

“But that’s … not what we are doing for real, I assume? If that’s the thing that shown on tape?”

Tommy hums. “It isn’t. Alfie isn’t going to visit the boxing match, for one.” Alfie lifts an eyebrow at being mentioned out of the blue.

“You usually aren’t interested anyways, so no suspicion there.” He addresses Alfie directly. “What you will do is pretend you have a delivery coming, like a valuable diamond, or another item of your choosing. Get him to store it in the vault. Then, make sure you can be in the main security room to watch it happen. That’s the important thing. We need someone in the room.”

“This was s’sposed to be a straightforward plan, mate.”

“I’m sorry, did I lose you already?”

“S’not what I said,” Alfie shoots back, “fuck off and go on. I have things to do later.”

“You’re free to leave, if you’re not interested in being a part of this any longer.” Alfie doesn’t say anything to that and just narrows his eyes, so Tommy continues.

“We’ll smuggle a phone into Sabini’s pocket, that’s how we’ll reach him. Polly will tell him the plan I just explained you and then, at one point,” Tommy says, “he’ll eventually call a SWAT team. That’s what we’re counting on. This is his legitimate business; it would be more suspicious if he _didn’t_ call the police when someone is in the process of robbing him.”

“Fuck, so we got the fucking coppers to deal with, too?” Arthur exclaims.

“No, we won't, because _we_ will be the SWAT team.” Tommy says.

“Tommy, what the fuck?” Lizzie says, leaning her elbows on the table and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Let me explain. Esme will have to fit into one of the carts that are stored in the vault and Finn and Isiah are going to dress up as casino staff and find a way to smuggle it inside.” Esme nods. She looks like she is waiting for a challenge to come.

“Ada, meanwhile, will pose as an inspector of the Nevada Gaming Commission and is going to get the codes from Sabini and then get backstage and into the elevator vault.”

“I won't reach it undetected, you said it yourself Tommy. They have cameras everywhere.” Ada speaks up.

“Alfie will distract the security staff in the main room while switch the camera feed to the pre-recorded tape.” He turns to Alfie. “Fake a heart attack or something. Be creative.”

“Mate, should I be taking acting classes for this, too?” Alfie says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re free to do so, if you think it’ll help.” Tommy replies amused. “I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

“Fuck you.” Alfie says, but there is no heat behind the words.

As if suddenly realizing that they aren’t the only two people in the room, Tommy clears his throat and turns around again, ignoring Alfie’s eyes on him.

“So, we have Esme in the vault, Ada in the elevator shaft, and then what?” Lizzie speaks up again.

“Now, we’ll need Arthur and John to shut off the power in the city. Or at the very least, the casino district.”

John looks like he’s mentally preparing for it already and Arthurs eyes shine gleefully with the prospect of getting to make a mess of Darby Sabini’s casinos.

“The motion detectors in the shaft will be out of service long enough for Ada to get to the bottom. There, she’ll throw a smoke bomb into the hallway to immobilize the guards. She will put an explosive device on the outside of the vault door, Esme will put one on the inside.”

“And then boom.” Arthur laughs.

“And then boom.”

“She’ll get inside the room, and her and Esme pack the money up in bags.”

“All of it?” Arthur asks.

“Every last penny. We’ll also bring our own bags inside while we pose as the SWAT team. With Esme’s cart, we’ll smuggle in something like flyers and put them into the bags we brought, so they’ll seem fully packed. We’ll switch them out, and then,” Tommy takes out a cigarette and lights it, very aware of the suspenseful break he just created, “we’ll walk out with 150 million in cash.”

“Fucking hell.” Lizzie blows out the smoke of her cigarette and shakes her head. Everyone else seems to put the pieces together for themselves, visualizing the plan that Tommy so very carefully constructed in his head.

Suddenly, Alfie speaks up. He actually, mockingly raises his hand like a schoolchild. “Now, Tommy dear, I have to admit that this shit’s pretty impressive, yeah? I do. But where the fuck will you be with all of that going on? Are we s’posed to do the whole fucking work and you’ll sit in your room and sip margaritas while you watch?”

“Not quite. I will pay the Bellagio a visit beforehand. I’ll sit by the slots or on a gambling table, just to be clearly seen by the cameras.” Tommy muses.

“And?”

“And nothing. I need a waterproof alibi, don’t I? I’m the person he’ll suspect first, so I need him to be absolutely sure that I couldn’t have been the one to rob him.”

Alfie isn’t happy, Tommy can see it, but he chooses to stay quiet for now, because he really can't argue with that logic. It’s not the whole truth, the part about not participating; thought that part of the plan relies a bit on what further circumstances will or won’t come up in the future.

“Didn’t think that shit could get more complicated.” Arthur murmurs from the side. “That all now?”

“Yes. That’s it. No more surprises.” Tommy replies. He looks around the room for a moment before saying, “If anything’s unclear, talk to me or Polly.”

Various heads are nodding and slowly, the group dissolves into smaller conversations and Alfie, predictably, makes his way over to Tommy.

“Never thought I’d say this, but your madman of a brother is right, didn’t think you’d make this plan even more complicated.”

“I’m sorry that it exceeds your skills.” Tommy says.

“Didn’t say I wasn’t up for it, did I? Stop putting words into my mouth, Thomas.” Alfie mutters as he grabs his cane and waves for Ollie to come over. “I think I’ve seen enough Shelbys for today, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m inclined to fuck off now.”

“Remember to talk to Sabini about the briefcase.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Tommy mockingly motions for the exit and Alfie waves his cane around as he steps through the door with Ollie in tow.

Tommy only notices he’d been watching him leave as Polly steps directly into his line of sight with her arms crossed in front of her body.

“You busy?” She says in a tone he can’t place. “We have some things to discuss.”

She doesn’t move and Tommy involuntarily starts to get defensive. He was just talking to Alfie, that’s not unusual at all, but Polly looks at him like it _is._

One day, that woman would be the death of him.

He turns around and moves to where Ada is gesturing for him at the table. Polly stays quiet and follows him without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is even a little bit coherent for everyone who hasn’t seen the film. Or for everybody who has. If not, then I’m sorry, I did my best, lmao. We’ll see how it works with the plan in action.


	12. guard

**guard** _(noun, verb)_

  1. One assigned to protect or oversee another.
  2. A defensive state or attitude.
  3. To protect from danger especially by watchful attention.
  4. To attempt to prevent (an opponent) from playing effectively or scoring.
  5. _(card games)_ One or more cards that protect a high card.



It's the third time Tommy steps foot into Alfie’s hotel room and he gets the impression that Alfie does spend more time in here than Tommy previously expected. He assumed it was just a means to an end, occupying a room in his own hotel to have a place to briefly oversee the action.

The room doesn’t have any personal pictures, sure, but there is too much of Alfie’s clutter lying around carelessly for it to be just a temporary, one-time accommodation. Some of the furniture is arranged differently than the other rooms are, even if the layout is the same. It’s just enough to indicate that this must be Alfie’s go-to place when he’s not at home or in the bakery.

And the smell. The smell that clings to Alfie all the time still hangs around in his room, less prominent but nonetheless perceptible.

The breakfast and lunch plates are still on the far end of the big mahogany table, which means that Alfie probably doesn’t want someone coming in here at random times to clean the room.

Tommy also heard Alfie call the maid who brought them their room service order last time by her first name and then he asked her about her daughter’s piano recital, so. Could be just because he’s been here for a while and personally knows the staff, could be just Alfie being Alfie.

The man in question isn’t here, this time. It's just Ollie, who only opened the door after what felt like a query of 50 questions to be sure that Tommy was alone and not here to hurt him in any kind of way, before he let him inside. Which, yes, it was annoying, but Tommy also had to admire the boy’s persistence.

“I uh- Mr. Solomons didn’t tell me you were coming over.” Ollie says as Tommy strides into the room, takes off his coat and sits himself down in front of the armada of notebooks and technical equipment Ollie has built up over time.

“That is because I didn’t plan on coming over.” He did, he just didn’t tell Alfie. Tommy beckons Ollie over to take a seat beside him. “But then I changed my mind.”

Ollie looks like he wants to sprint for the door. Poor boy.

“Pull up the camera feed of the room with Sabini’s office, would you?” Tommy says absentmindedly. “And Ollie,” the boy looks up, “don’t even try to call Alfie while you pretend to take a piss or make some other half-assed excuse to disappear for a few moments.”

Ollie swallows and nods.

Today, Alfie is scheduled to convince Sabini to let him store his briefcase in the vault of the Bellagio. Tommy isn’t going to miss it for the world. _Alfie_ and _trust_ are two things that should stand against each other, and frequently did, in past times, but there have been enough times where Alfie _should_ have betrayed Tommy, should have stabbed him in the back and left him to lick his own wounds, and then he didn’t.

There have also been enough times where Alfie betrayed him because Tommy was stupid enough to not question Alfie’s trust.

So Tommy focuses on the laptop screen, pointedly doesn’t think about the last time was in Alfie’s room and reaches for the headphones. The quality isn’t the best, but it's enough to identify Alfie and Sabini in a big office, sitting on opposite sides of a desk. They just arrived, to Tommy’s luck.

“ _… not much for watching, y’know? Yeah, you do.”_

_“Sitting on the side-lines then, waiting until it's over?”_

Sabini. Tommy hasn’t talked to the man personally since long before prison.

There is some small talk, just to be polite, just to keep up appearances. It doesn’t last long, though, and Tommy presses the earpiece closer and turns up the volume as much as possible.

_“… wanted to ask you to do me a favour, right?”_

It's difficult to understand, the camera feed barely picks up their voices.

_“There’s a package comin’ for me, now, on the night of the match. Very important stuff in there, y’know?”_

There we go, Tommy thinks.

_“Something illegal? You know I’m not opposed to that, but I can’t have it the casino, if it’s avoidable.”_

_“No, no. Not at all. It’s an egg, you see? Some Russian guy made ‘em, I believe?”_

_“Fabergé, hm?”_ Sabini seems impressed, though also annoyed at Alfie. “ _I’ll put it in the house safe for you, yes?”_

_“The house safe is for brandy and grandmother’s pearls.”_ Alfie says. _“Do I look like a fucking grandmother to you, Darby? I need something more secure.”_

A small part of Tommy can’t believe that this is actually working.

_“I can assure you, our house safe is- “_

_“Fuck your little house safe, mate. This shit is important to me, yeah?”_ Alfie leans in. _“We’ve been in business for how long, now?”_

Sabini sighs as if he has more important stuff to do than listen to an insane man talk about his paranoid fears. He probably has, and Tommy feels a spark of glee at the fact that Sabini is getting the full brunt of Alfie’s hot-blooded temperament, because as Tommy knows first-hand how unbelievably irritating he can be if he wants to.

_“Listen, I can assure you that your generosity in this manner will not go overlooked.”_ Alfie adds after a minute of silence.

Sabini perks up. _“What are you offering?”_

Tommy would like to know too. Alfie really doesn’t have that much leverage in this situation.

Alfie looks around the room for a few seconds, scratches his beard and then turns back to Sabini. The voice is cracked and faint over the speakers, but it is unmistakable.

_“Tommy Shelby.”_

Tommy wills himself to stay still. This is part of the plan; it has to be. Ollie gaze flickers nervously between Tommy and the screen and he seems like he is ready to bolt at the smallest reaction coming from Tommy.

Sabini laughs, a short and ugly sound. _“Tommy Shelby? Yes, heard he’s out of prison again, is he?”_

_“Yeah, little Tommy’s very keen on getting back at you.”_

Don’t … fuck.

Sabini takes a sip of his drink. Tommy wishes he could drown himself in whiskey to distract himself from this fiasco.

_“I thought so. The bastard just can't stay down, can he? Now, I’d say: you tell me what you know, and then we’ll come to an agreement. How does that sound for you?”_

Tommy’s heart is pounding, his body brimming with nervous energy and he feels dread creep up his back, crawling under his skin.

He’s playing. He has to be, Tommy thinks. He _hopes_ that Alfie is just playing his part to get Sabini to swallow the bait, and oh, isn’t that a sad state of affairs. Tommy Shelby – who planned a masterclass, high-stakes robbery over two whole years to a T – dependant on a glimmer of hope for Alfie Solomons to stay true to his word, so that he wouldn’t go up in flames.

_“I’ll tell you after the fight.”_

God. That’s- that’s good? It’s not an outright assurance of trust, no. Alfie could still follow through with telling Sabini and then making a deal to ensure his safety and fuck Tommy over. It’s just that Alfie _could_ have told Sabini there and then; but didn’t.

Sabini hesitates, just for a second. Then, a sigh. _“Alright, if you think so.”_

_“Good, very good.”_ Alfie mutters. _“Now, what can you offer me besides the safe?”_

_“I can put the briefcase in the vault. It's the safest place in the casino, trust me.”_

Oh boy, think again.

_“Hm. The vault.”_ Alfie looks down for a moment, and then up at Sabini again. Tommy frowns at the movement. _“Well, nobody has robbed you yet, eh? So, I think I’ll consider it.”_

God, he was fucking infuriating. Alfie either plans to tell Sabini everything in return for his loyalty and better conditions on their trade deals, or he’s still on Tommy’s side and wants to rile him the fuck up, just because he fucking feels like it.

Sabini laughs again, puffing out his chest now. _“Yet, you say. I’d say never. This vault can't be robbed, Alfie.”_

_“If you say so, mate.”_ Alfie says, playing with his glass on the table. His tone is good-natured on the surface, but to Tommy it sounds like he’s hiding steel underneath.

Tommy’s keeps his face a blank mask, jaw clenched.

_“Is that all? We can discuss the details later; I have a meeting I need to attend.”_ Sabini says, glancing at his watch. _“Please, feel free to order another drink down at the bar before you leave, it's on the house.”_

_“Well, sure mate, but I need to be sure, yeah, really sure that briefcase will be safe, now, wouldn’t you agree?”_ Sabini is impatient now, Tommy can see it. _“You have a place where I can watch it? I don’t want one of your employees thinking they can touch, or god forbid, steal my valuable egg.”_

Sabini puts a hand on his temple before gesturing around wildly. _“Sure. Sure! Just watch the fucking security tapes, Alfie. You are one paranoid fucker, aren’t you? No one here is going to touch your fucking egg.”_ He slams his hands down on the table.

_“Anything else?”_ The last question is clearly meant to be sarcastic, and Alfie just raises his glass in a mock salute before Sabini finally takes his leave.

Alfie was playing, he _had_ to be, Tommy thinks for the hundredth time this evening, He had too much on the line too, it wouldn’t be worth it to cross Tommy, not now. Either in the beginning, or maybe at the end, but now?

It was just to wrap Sabini around his finger, and the allusions to the robbery were clearly just to rile Tommy up, because now Alfie was glancing up at the camera, directly at him, and he tips his hat as if to greet him and-

Tommy freezes.

Alfie hadn't known Tommy was watching. He came here unannounced and wasn’t seen by any of the staff. The only person who could’ve told him was-

“ _Please_ don’t kill me Mister Shelby, I know you’re angry but he’s my boss and if I wouldn’t have told him then _he'd_ kill me- “

-sitting right beside him. Ollie.

Fuck. _Fuck._

“Shut the fuck up, Ollie.” Tommy is angry at Ollie, yes, but also, he was doing his fucking job, after all. He’s loyal to Alfie, and if Tommy weren’t so fucking furious right now, a small part of him would have to admire him for the fucking balls he has for bringing such a move.

How the fuck did he lose his focus this much? Ollie must’ve sent Alfie a message, that’s why he was looking down, he was looking at his fucking phone. God.

Tommy takes a deep breath and doesn’t look at Ollie as he grabs his coat on his way to the door. He needs to get out of here.

“Did you enjoy the performance?” Alfie greets him as Tommy takes the phone call.

He’s on his way back to his own hotel, walking along the busy street. Tommy has half a mind to just hang up, but he doesn’t want to come across as a sulky child.

The night is young, people are out, there’s laughter and smoke all around him but he feels strangely detached from it, doesn’t pay it any mind. Neon lights glitter in the water fountains of the Las Vegas Boulevard like diamonds shining in the sun. It’s never quiet, never dark, not here. Not on the Boulevard. It’s quite the fitting picture for Tommy’s reeling mind right now.

“Not really. Should’ve taken some of those acting classes you mentioned.”

“You seemed pretty convinced from what Ollie told me.” Of course, Ollie already gave him the gossip. “On the edge of your seat, you seemed to be.”

“Ollie has a tendency to exaggerate, then.” Tommy passes a bunch of drunk twentysomethings in shrill outfits who were probably just old enough to drink and gamble away Daddy’s money. It’s the promise of good luck and an easy fortune; Las Vegas made you believe it with your whole heart.

“Right. So, you didn’t think, yeah, not even for one tiny moment that I’d betray you?”

Tommy just wants to end the fucking call, get home and go to bed. God, on a few rare occasions he really wants to sleep, and now is one those times.

“Well, did you plan to?” It's not what he wanted to say, but the alcohol and the sleep deprivation take a toll on Tommy. He’s only human, after all, and humans have their moments of weakness and get careless sometimes. Granted, Tommy likes to think he has less of these slip-ups than others. “Before you knew I was listening in, did you plan to fucking cross me?”

It's angry and unusually _raw_ and Tommy feels like he ripped himself open and presented Alfie with the contents of his soul, because it's possibly – _probably_ – a very stupid idea to let Alfie hear him in this moment of insecurity.

“What I did or didn’t _plan_ to do doesn’t really matter right now, does it? Because, as someone very smart probably said before me: in the end, it’s your actions and not your intentions that define you.” Alfie says, and the exaggeration in his voice is almost comical. So, no straight answer then, not that Tommy realistically expected anything else. It still drives him up the fucking wall. Alfie and his cryptic talking sometimes. God knows where he stole it from.

“Why did you call me, then?”

“Just felt like it, mate.” Alfie says, entirely too flippant for the situation. It’s not very convincing, since he’s trying too hard to be casual. “Can’t I just call my esteemed business partner when I feel like it?”

Tommy has to turn the phone away from his face to take a deep breath and press his fingers over his eyes for a moment. This conversation is going nowhere and he’s fucking tired.

He’s so fucking angry at himself for getting so upset, so agitated. He was lulled into a false sense of security by his perfect plan that the possibility of Alfie betraying him seemed so far away the closer he got to accomplish his goal.

He’s embarrassed, _humiliated_ that he ever considered Alfie anything other than an unstable business partner at best, and an enemy at worst.

That was it, Tommy decides. They’d do this fucking job and be done with each other. No more funny conversations, no more weird moments and no more hypothetical scenarios about Alfie and _men,_ about Alfie and _Tommy._ It was fine, all fine before the stakes got higher and the potential of being killed by Sabini wasn’t as pressing of a matter as it is now.

Now, Tommy simply can’t afford to screw up and ruin everything. A lapse in judgement could cost him his fucking life if he isn’t careful.

“Don’t be late tomorrow.” Tommy says coldly.

There is a beat of silence, tense. It’s merely a few seconds but it feels like an eternity.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Alfie answers. “I’m a man of my word, most of the ti- “

Tommy hangs up before he finishes the sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no…could there be…betrayal? Between Alfie and Tommy? What a new concept. Let’s make it a bit angsty :)


	13. behind

**behind** _(adverb, adjective, preposition)_

  1. Used as a function word to indicate backwardness, delay, or deficiency.
  2. _(poker)_ Not (currently) having the best hand.
  3. _(poker)_ Money in play but not visible as chips in front of a player.



“Welcome back.” Tommy says. Everyone besides Arthur is assembled at the warehouse for another group meeting, this time for practice and last details. Tommy feels like a school teacher, these days.

He goes over a few structure elements of the plan and makes sure that everyone knows what they have to do. Overall, most of the tasks are clear and there are no immediate hurdles, which is at least a small beacon of hope.

After, he beckons Esme over to take her place in the cart for practice. It’s a crucial part that has to go smoothly, or else they can say goodbye to their prize money.

“Okay. The cart will get wheeled in and you’ll be ten feet away from everything. Motion detectors are all over the room, so you have to get from there,” he points to the middle of the room, “to the door without touching the floor.”

He takes out his cigarettes and lights one up before walking over the where the rest of the group is standing and waiting. “What do you do?”

“Ten says she shorts it.” Alfie says, and Tommy throws him a glare. Alfie just smirks back, gleefully amused by the provocation. 

“Fuck you, that’s my wife!” John shouts and then throws his half-eaten chocolate bar at Alfie, who is too caught off guard to duck away. He had it coming, Tommy thinks, amused despite his determination to ignore everything about Alfie that doesn’t concern the immediate plan at hand.

Esme, meanwhile, cracks her knuckles, climbs out of the cart, throws a nasty grin into the room before effortlessly making a back flip and landing on the shelf by the door. She puts both of her middle fingers up as a loud and clear _fuck you_ to the room.

Everybody is stunned for a moment.

That was … less complicated than Tommy had expected it to be.

“Fuck yeah, that’s my girl!” John bellows and whistles from the side and Esme blows him a mock kiss from her place atop the shelf. And then _Alfie_ of all people starts to slow clap and the rest of the group reluctantly joins in, impressed with Esme’s performance and confused by Alfie’s reaction.

Since Esme obviously has no trouble with navigating inside the vault, Tommy mentally starts to reschedule todays plan, maybe he can devote more time to-

There is a loud crashing noise and the door to the warehouse slams open. Tommy has to force himself not to flinch at the sudden noise. He slept for two hours, tops, and the three espressos he had this morning just made him jittery and irritated instead of energized.

“… can't fucking believe these assholes, I’m tellin’ ya!” Arthurs voice booms across the room, the echo making his already loud voice unbearable. “We have a fucking problem, Tommy.” Arthur says, and Tommy can see him walking in now, fully covered in mud and … shit, literal shit.

“What happened?” Polly asks, and it's the first thing she said today. Her night must’ve been pretty rough too, judging from the sunglasses she still wears indoors.

“Basically, the fuckers from the power station did the same thing that I would’ve done, only they did it on accident.”

“Fuck me.” John says from behind Tommy.

“Ay. Problem is, now they know their weakness and they’re sortin’ it out.” He spits onto the floor, huffing out a breath. “So, unless you want to move this job somewhere else, we’re in trouble.”

Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his mouth. His head is booming, a dull thumbing sensation at the back of his head and he feels like it's slowly spreading to take over his whole brain.

He crosses his arms and turns to Polly. “We could always- “

“By tomorrow?” She shakes her head.

“Hand on a minute, hang on.” John stands up now, pacing in front of Tommy and the rest of the group. “We could use a pinch.” Arthur perks up.

Tommy looks around and sees only confusion in everyone’s faces.

“What’s a _pinch_?” He asks, looking at John with raised eyebrows.

“A pinch is a device, which creates, like, a cardiac arrest for any broadband electrical circuitry. Or better yet, a pinch is a bomb. But without the bomb.” John explains, looking between Arthur and Tommy. “It's kind of like, when an atomic bomb goes off, it unleashes an electromagnetic impulse, which shuts down any power source within the blast radius.”

“Tends not to matter in most cases, ‘cause, y’know, a nuclear bomb destroys everything around it anyways.” Arthur adds. “But a pinch creates a similar electromagnetic pulse, or whatever,” he angrily throws his hand up, “but without any mass destruction or death.”

Polly nods along beside the boys, following their explanations with a thoughtful look on her face. “So, instead of Hiroshima, we’d be getting the 17th century.”

“Exactly.” Arthur points at her, sending a bunch of dirt crumbs flying into the air.

“For how long?” Tommy asks.

“30 seconds? Depends.” John shrugs, and Tommy goes on. “Could a pinch knock out the power of an entire city?”

Arthur grins. “For example, Las Vegas?”

“Fuck yeah, it could. If it's big enough.” John is grinning too, clearly envisioning the damage they’d do to the city with that kind of energy. “But there is only one pinch in the States big enough to manage it.”

“Where?” Tommy feels the suspicion creeping up his spine that he isn’t going to like what comes out of Johns mouth next.

John tilts his head. “We’ll have to take a trip to California tonight.”

Fucking _California._

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I…really don’t know if this is too OCC, especially for John and Arthur, BUT they did blow up some stuff in the show, so that’s the justification here.


	14. exposed card

**exposed card** _(noun)_

_(card games)_ A card whose face has been deliberately or accidentally revealed to players normally not entitled to that information during the play of the game. Various games have different rules about how to handle this irregularity.

In the end, the trip to California wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

The back of the van was crammed with Tommy, Finn, Isiah, John and Arthur while Ada was functioning as the driver. The streets were deserted at night, and so it took them only about four and a half hours to get to their destination.

_California Institute of Advanced Science_

_East Entrance_

The sign was lit up on the side of the road as they made their way onto the premises. If they wouldn’t have been spotted by the security guys while they rolled a giant, cylinder shaped electronic device into the van, it would have gone over without a hitch. Instead, they had to quickly leave the scene to not get caught on their way out of the building.

Tommy would rip his hair out if they would have been caught and sent to prison just for breaking and entering.

Thus, the trip back to Las Vegas was filled with various arguments and accusations as to who was the perpetrator that got them caught. Arthur was blaming John, while John insisted that Finn and Isiah joked around the entire time, distracting _him_ in the process. Isiah came to his and Finn’s defence, outraged at being called a _just a wee little child_ by John. At the end of the trip, Tommy thought that going back to prison didn’t sound like the worst course of action.

The only blessing was that Alfie wasn’t there for the family trip Tommy could’ve lived without.

After a total of 10 torturous hours, Ada dropped them off at the warehouse, changing the license plate before storing the car inside to be dealt with later. After some half-hearted goodbyes, everyone went their separate ways for the night.

Tommy walked back to his car before realizing with a sigh that he let Polly pick him up this morning. Or rather, yesterday morning, because it couldn’t be long before the sun would begin to rise behind the glittering skyline of the city again.

As if she can read his mind, Ada comes up behind him and dangles her keys from her fingers. “Need a ride?”

Too tired to get any coherent sentence out, Tommy closes his eyes for a few moments and then follows Ada to her car, letting the exhaustion from the previous days finally catch up with him as he presses his head to the car window as Ada starts to drive down the Las Vegas strip. She stays quiet for a few minutes, which Tommy thankfully enjoys. He still feels wired, but the tension eases out of his shoulders with every meter he gets closer to his bed.

Ada breaks the silence as she stops at red light, and it doesn’t feel as jarring as Tommy expected it to be. “Polly is skeptical.”

He doesn’t ask about what exactly. He keeps his eyes on the traffic light, waiting for the signal to turn green again. “When isn’t she skeptical?”

“I mean about you.” Ada clarifies. “And Solomons’ involvement.”

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. Her face is only illuminated by the streetlights and neon signs adorning the shops on the sidewalk. She looks calm and far more awake than Tommy feels.

“She doesn’t trust him to hold up his end of the deal. Thinks he’ll cross us.”

Polly told him as much, on more than one occasion. And fuck, he knows. He knows that he should have put up a better security net under the whole circus attraction that was this heist. He thought he had the upper hand when he asked Alfie to join, thought that Alfie didn’t have a reason to cross him, that he’d gladly help Tommy put down Sabini, the man who was the bane of both of their lives.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, isn’t that the saying? Now, Tommy isn’t so sure anymore, especially not after he listened to the conversation with Sabini.

“And what do you think?” Tommy asks after they make a few turns and stop at a red light again.

Ada exhales. The sound is startingly loud in the dark car. “I don’t know.” She leans her head back and turns to look at him. “I really don’t.”

She’s getting tired now, too, the adrenaline from the long trip finally clearing out of her system. Tommy feels it too.

“If he would betray you now, it wouldn’t make sense.” Tommy says. “He’s already in too deep.” He is, but he wouldn’t put it past Alfie to fuck him up, still.

“Well, that isn’t really encouraging.” Ada says, and Tommy is confused for a moment before realizing that he said the last part out loud. He’s is so fucking sleep-deprived, he can't think straight.

“He’ll keep his word. I’ll make sure of it.”

Ada just hums. It sounds like she wants to add something but decides to drop the topic in the last moment.

The city rolls by outside the windows. If you took away the casino strip, Las Vegas didn’t differ so much to other big cities. The surroundings turned normal and boring; besides the occasional small gambling den here and there, nothing else indicated that was the infamous _sin city_.

It’s five silent minutes later when Ada speaks up again. “There’s something else going on then?”

_No._

“No.” Tommy’s voice is hoarse all of a sudden, like he hasn’t used it in weeks.

“No.” Ada repeats. “You’re a bad liar, Tommy, at least to me.”

He knows, he fucking knows that Ada and Polly can see right through him, sometimes. He can keep secrets from them, but only because they let him. At least, Ada mostly does.

Suddenly, he remembers that he hasn’t asked Ada about her son or Freddie or her life in Boston _once_ since she came here, and he feels his throat go tight with shame and guilt. Just for a moment, he lets himself feel the pain, before he goes back to pushing it down again.

“The last time you’ve been this distracted was when you and were with Grace. _Before_ you were with Grace.” God, fuck. “So, is it about a woman?”

Tommy doesn’t have the brain capacity to tell her off. “I’m distracted because I’m planning a robbery, and it almost went off the rails today.” If he would have been less tired, he wouldn’t have admitted it, he thinks.

“No, I know how you look when you’re stressed about work stuff. Or distracted by it. This is a different kind of distraction. I know the look in your eyes.” She keeps her voice lighter now, more relaxed, and Tommy hates it. He hates it, because she regularly teases him about his love-life and he’s only mildly annoyed most of the time and this shouldn’t be different, but now he’s almost, _almost_ terrified.

Was that even a thing? Seeing something on a person’s eyes? Was he really that transparent to Ada?

The tightness in his throat doesn’t go away, and Tommy knows _exactly_ why he feels like he wants to run for the hills and never come back. It's not even about Alfie, specifically. He’s attractive, Tommy can admit that much, because it's not like that’s an outlandish thing to accept. A lot of people are attractive, a lot of them are his enemies and it's never been an issue before. He doesn’t yet know if it's going to be an obstacle now.

It's about the fact that it's a man and he very well can't tell Ada about that. It's such a stupid thing to be worried about, such a small worry compared to what’s going on around them and Tommy could throttle himself every time he feels his chest constrict when he thinks about telling his family.

“It's not- “ He has to swallow. “It's not about a woman.”

Ada hums. They stay silent for the next minute or so while Tommy tries to unclench his fists. He can feel his fingernails pressing into his palm and he wills himself to stop before he starts bleeding.

She must’ve heard something in his voice because she asks, “Is it about a man, then?”

It isn’t teasing and he doesn’t know if that’s worse than if it were. It's just sincere. Fucking sincere, like asking him that kind of question isn’t such a fucking outlandish thing to do. The irritation slowly makes way for the panic he vehemently denies he feels.

Just fucking hand-wave it and call her crazy, Tommy thinks. _Why the fuck would you think is about a man, Ada?_

“Why would you think it's about a man?”

It neither comes out angry nor forceful nor condescending. The question is quiet and nervous and startled, because Tommy doesn’t have the energy to pretend right now.

Ada is surprised, he can see it. She hides it well, doesn’t move her eyes from the road or says anything, but her fingers twitch on the steering wheel. She was probably half-joking, not really prepared for an honest answer. Or maybe she was. Tommy can't tell sometimes, with Ada.

“Just thought I’d ask.” Her tone is careful, as if Tommy is a spooked animal she had to soothe. Maybe she’s right, he certainly feels like he is. “Is it?”

Tommy wants to leave this fucking car. Wants to open the door and throw himself out onto the street, traffic be damned. He keeps his mouth shut, but that’s just as much of a declaration of truth, isn’t it?

She stops the car and Tommy wants to ask why before he sees the familiar street outside and realizes they’ve reached their destination. Silence. Now that Tommy actually has the ability to leave, he is frozen in place, staring out the windshield.

Now she knows, _technically_ , and he doesn’t know how he feels about that.

“Are you alright, Tommy?”

“Don’t know.” It's the most honest thing he’s said the whole day. “I think so.”

Ada hums again. It's ridiculous, and Tommy wants to laugh.

“Not how I thought this day would go.” He says quietly and more to himself.

“Yeah, I bet.” Ada says, more casual now that Tommy wasn’t going to bolt or freak out. “You know, it's- “ She starts, searching for the right words. “It's alright, Tommy.”

“I know.” He replies, clipped and defensive.

“Well, you certainly didn’t look like you knew ten minutes ago.” There’s her cutting humour again, and Tommy is incredibly relieved to turn this conversation back to familiar waters again. He looks at her, then, and she looks back. Gentle, yet intelligent eyes meet his and a small smile decorates Ada’s face.

“You’re an idiot, Tommy Shelby.” She says softly. He doesn’t argue, just turns his head and searches for his keys.

“Thanks for the drive.” He doesn’t look at her and steps out of the car. “Goodnight, Ada.”

“Tommy?”

He leans back down with a questioning look on his face.

“Is it someone I know?” She asks cheekily. Tommy sighs and rolls his eyes while straightening up.

“Don’t push it.” He answers before the door falls shut, but there is no heat in the sentiment. He watches the car drive away back into the city.

The sun is almost up now and Tommy feels tired and exhausted, but he doesn’t want to run anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may notice, this wasn’t in the movie at all, but this conversation just snuck up on me. Hope you like it!


	15. 86'd

**86'd** _(verb)_

_variants: eighty-six, 86ing, 86ing_

  1. Being told by a casino that you are being removed, generally due to suspected advantage play.
  2. _(slang)_ to refuse to serve (a customer)
  3. _(slang)_ to get rid of; throw out



The briefcase is prepared with all the equipment one needs to get down the elevator shaft safely and Ada – who is wearing a very important looking grey blazer and matching pants, her face adorned by a pair of glasses – takes it with a determinate grip.

“Test run.” Tommy says. “You’re an inspector of the Nevada Gaming Commission. Where do you put your hands?” He gestures for her to act out the order. She shifts and clutches the briefcase with both hands in front of her.

“No good.”

She changes her stance and reaches for her collar.

“Don’t touch your tie, look at me.”

She looks at him then, full of annoyance and so distinctly _Ada_ that Tommy feels like smiling if he weren’t so deep in thought. He’s silently thankful that Ada hasn’t mentioned the late-night car conversation, because that’s the last thing he needs right now. He has enough distraction around him as it is.

“Okay. React to the following situation: I ask you a question, you have to think of the answer.” Tommy says. “Where do you look?”

Ada clears her throat and her eyes flick down.

“No good. If you look down, they know you're lying, if you look up, they know you don't know the truth.”

She drops her shoulders. “Tommy- “

“Listen to me. Don't use seven words when four will do. Don't shift your weight. Always _look_ at your mark but don't _stare_ , be specific but not memorable, be funny but don't make him laugh. He's got to like you and then forget you the moment you leave his side.”

“I can do it, this isn’t the first time I’ve posed as someone else, Tommy.” She says, insistently jutting out her chin. “I’m sure. So just- let me practice for a bit and don’t treat me like a child.”

“Ada, if you lose focus in this game for just one second, somebody gets hurt.” Tommy says, putting his hands on Ada’s shoulders. She just shakes him off and straightens her suit, ready to try again.

“Are you sure he won't recognize me?” She says in attempt to deflect from her nervousness. “That’s what I’m more worried about.”

It’s what’s been worrying Tommy too. But Ada had been in Boston before Sabini established himself as a significant player in the city, so between his excitement for the boxing fight and the usual stress of keeping up with his casino work, she should go undetected for the evening.

“No. You’ll do good. You’re a natural, Ada.” He tells her as reassuring as he can. “But don’t blow it.”

“Jesus.” Ada says under her breath, shaking her head. “You really need to work on your pep talk.”

“Tommy?” Lizzie calls from the hallway.

“Yes?”

“I need you to take a look at this.” She says, handing him a tablet. She looks mildly stressed, rubbing her temple. “I just talked to Ollie, he found out.”

Tommy scans the screen and straightens up, shaking his head. “Shit.”

Ada looks at Lizzie quizzically.

“He's been blacklisted.” She says as an explanation and turns back to Tommy. “They’ll watch your every step _if_ they’ll even let you inside at all.”

Ada looks at Tommy. “That’s- What does that mean for our plan?”

Tommy sighs and takes a seat, pulling out his cigarette case. “Not much, but it’s not ideal. I don’t have to visit either of the casinos before the final night, someone else can take over that part. And as for the night of the plan, I’ll think of something. It's not going to be a problem.”

“Then why do you look like someone shot your horse?”

Because, he thinks, while this could just be a precautionary measure from Sabini – he wouldn’t put it past the guy to blacklist him out of spite – it feels like too much of a coincidence. Feels like a deliberate choice that you make when someone tips you off, especially now, and there’s only one person that comes to his mind who’d have a reason to tip off Sabini, however illogical it may be.

Tommy feels anger rising like bile in his throat but he forces himself to stay calm. Sabini could be an overly cautious asshole, so the possibility that he blacklisted Tommy _without_ any specific input from Alfie is still very much on the table.

Still, the uneasy feeling stays.

It's in that moment that Tommy turns around and there is Polly, standing in the doorway, listening to them since god knows when. She clearly came to the same conclusion that Tommy did, because her face twists into something that might be barely concealed anger mixed with a healthy dose of _I-told-you-so_.

“A word, please, Tommy.” She says, mockingly polite, motioning for him to follow her into the adjourning room. He was hoping to avoid this, though he doesn’t seem to have luck today.

“You shouldn’t have trusted him.” She says before the door is fully closed and steps in front of him. “You shouldn’t have trusted Solomons, you shouldn’t have asked him to be a part of you fucking revenge fantasy, Tommy, and now it's not only you, but all of us paying the price for it.”

“It's not going to be a problem, Polly _._ ” Tommy says, willing his voice to sound even and stern.

“Yes, well you might be able to change your plan accordingly, but we’re just going to ignore that Solomons and Sabini aren’t sitting together somewhere and laughing at how fucking stupid we are?”

“Alfie doesn’t have a strong enough reason to fuck us over, not when he’s in that deep.” He says, voice clipped. “I’ll handle it.”

He realizes a moment too late that he didn’t refer to Alfie by his last name again, hasn’t done so for the last few days.

“You’ll- Fuck. You'll handle it.” Polly puts her hands on her hips. He patience is running thin by now. “Yes, that’s exactly the answer I wanted to hear.”

“Polly, just trust me on this- “

She actually throws her arms up at that. “ _Trust you._ ” She hisses. “Fucking hell, Tommy, do you even hear yourself? This guy almost certainly betrayed you – betrayed _us –_ again and you’re standing here all fine and calm and talk about _trust_.”

She leans closer to him and her voice gets threateningly low. “Good. I'll trust you, but you better fucking handle it then, and I hope that means you’re going to make sure Solomons didn’t talk to Sabini _or_ you put a bullet in his brain. Both is fine by me, though I'd prefer the second option. And remember, it's not only your head that’s on the line, here.”

He nods, tense. His jaw is clenched tight.

They could hardly stop now, Tommy thinks, they put too much work and money and nerves into the plan to just back off. It had to work, and it would.

“I don’t fucking understand you. If this was anyone else, you’d already have a bullet in the fucker’s head, but Solomons gets the VIP treatment?” Polly wasn’t as furious now, just quietly seething. “And the 20,5 percent he’s getting? That also didn’t change, I assume, or did you just forget to tell me?”

Tommy’s silence the only admission she’s going to get from him, but it’s enough.

Resigned, she shakes her head and reaches for a cigarette. “You better not be running a job inside a job, Tommy.”

“I’m not." Tommy says. "I told you, I’ll handle it.” It's as much as he can get out with his throat feeling suddenly tight. From anger or from shame, who knows.

Polly takes a last look at Tommy and walks back to Ada and Lizzie, leaving Tommy alone in the room with only his thoughts for company.


	16. coin flip

**coin flip** _(noun)_

_variants: coin toss_

  1. A particular instance where a coin is launched in the air, and whichever side that it lands on finalizes a decision.
  2. _(poker)_ A situation where two players have invested all their money in the pot and have a roughly even chance of winning.
  3. _(_ _figuratively)_ An uncertain selection (between two objects of very similar quality).



It's the last night before the plan is set into motion and Tommy is playing solitaire with himself.

He met with Ada for a few final touches to her performance, gave Lizzie and Esme a call, talked to Finn and Isiah about last-minute improvements and made sure that John and Arthur have everything they need for tomorrow night. They could still do some emergency shopping today, but the time tomorrow was tightly planned. Polly came by the gambling room for a few last touch-ups and then she left to get enough sleep, too.

So now Tommy sits alone in the dingy gambling room, dealing cards to no one but himself.

From the moment he stepped foot onto free land again, Tommy was convinced of the infallibility of his plan. He spent weeks, months, _years_ constructing and re-constructing every detail that would be necessary to pull off a heist of this calibre. There was no place for doubt in any of his mental calculations.

Until now. Or to be more precise, there had been seeds of doubt throughout the last few weeks, strewn between organization and calculations, and when they started to sprout, they grew into little weeds, easy to ignore and tread over, but still there. Inconspicuous and nondescript, but still covering a lot of space, and one day you look into your garden and can’t see anything besides the unwelcome plants among your carefully planted flowers.

The devil who was at the root of the doubts that plagued Tommy announced himself with the clicking of a cane and the creaking of the cheap laminate floor out in the hallway. It seems as if Tommy conjured him up with his thoughts alone.

The fact that Alfie could be heard over the thumbing of the bass one room over and the cluttering of various staff members in the hallways meant that he was doing it on purpose and apparently didn’t plan a sneak attack on Tommy. Small mercies.

It doesn’t stop Tommy from complaining to him without looking up from his seventh game of solitaire.

“How did you get in here?”

“And a good evenin’ to you, too. A man has his secrets, Tommy.” Alfie replies and Tommy makes a mental note to reprimand the bouncer for just letting Alfie walk in like that. “I was gifted with irresistible charm, one and a half working legs and two functioning hands that are capable of opening doors, so why not use those, I thought to myself.”, he adds as he takes off his jacket and places it carefully over the chair.

Finally, after what couldn’t have been a full minute – and wasn’t that a sad testament to the state of his nerves – Tommy sighs and looks up, chucking the deck of cards he was holding onto the table. “What do you want?”

Instead of answering, Alfie sits down opposite him, takes the cards strewn onto the table with a curious look and stacks them up neatly before he starts shuffling them.

The rings on his fingers sparkle as they catch the dim light in the room. They look immaculate and polished; Alfie must clean them regularly. Tommy idly wonders how much blood Alfie has spilled while wearing the rings, but the thought is more curious in nature than actually horrifying, their line of work being what it is.

Tommy realizes he’s been staring at Alfie’s fingers for the last few seconds instead of doing literally anything else and the observation makes his neck tingle for some reason. He looks away, clenches his jaw.

“Did you come here to show me card tricks?” Tommy asks, regarding the flipping motions Alfie does with the cards in his hands.

“I did, actually.” Alfie says, positively delighted. “You need some fun in your life, Tommy.”

He takes the King of Diamonds, holds it between his fingers and then flips it over to reveal the Ten of Clubs. Tommy just raises his eyebrows, unimpressed.

“Heard you had to take drive up to California.” Alfie says noncommittally. “Something went wrong?”

And oh, it suddenly occurs to Tommy that Alfie may have had a hand in screwing with the power station, too. It’s far-fetched and the problem they encountered was relatively easily solvable, but it _is_ a possibility and Tommy could punch himself for only considering that _now._ But then again: Alfie didn’t know what _exactly_ Arthur and John had planned to do, so it might have been a coincidence.

He stays silent, trying to estimate if Alfie is playing dumb or not, because he sounds honestly not that smug about it, so it could be a coincidence after all. _Could._

“You think I’m going to cross you, Thomas?”

His tone in nonchalant, but Tommy knows better than to assume he’s really that non-plussed about it. The sudden change of topic doesn’t startle Tommy; he’s had enough practice with Alfie’s broad leaps in conversation that he manages to not let anything show on his face.

“There are quite many reasons for me to assume you’d interfere with my plan.”

“Yes, and a whole 20,5 percent not to.” Alfie counters, taking a 200$ chip from the stack on the other end of the table. He starts to play with it, flipping it around in his hands and then, lighting fast, the coin in his right hand disappears and transforms into an Ace of Spades in his left one.

And- alright. That little trick was impressive, Tommy has to hand it to him.

His movements are so fluid and sure that he must’ve practiced them for a while, although – because this is _Alfie_ after all – Tommy wouldn’t put it past him to learn card tricks just to annoy him.

“No, mate, no. I want my money.” He says, “I won’t betray you.”

That admission is basically worth nothing and they both very well know it.

“I’ll make your life a living hell if you do, Alfie.” Tommy says anyways.

“Oh, more than you already do?” Alfie isn’t deterred by Tommy stern look. “I sincerely doubt that that’s possible, but feel free to try.”

Alfie flicks the Ace of Spades around in his hand and then holds it up for Tommy to see. “Highest ranking card in the game. Means good luck.”

“Or death.”

“Or death, yeah.” Alfie scratches his beard, lost in thought. “Did you know that in the Vietnam war, soldiers put the Ace of Spades into their helmet as an anti-peace sign? Americans, fucking dramatic if you ask me, but it's rather fitting for your situation, innit? ‘Cause what you’re doing is basically starting a war with Sabini.”

“Getting cold feet?” Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow. “It's a bit late for that.” _Unless you don’t plan to go through with it and cross me._

“No. Just remindin’ you of the consequences.”

“I don’t need you to remind me, I know what I’m doing. I’m well aware of the consequences of my actions.” Tommy says. “Are you?”

“Of the consequences of _my_ or _your_ actions?”

“Both.”

Alfie doesn’t answer, just narrows his eyes and shuffles the card back into the deck. He clears his throat and says, “Did you know – and I don’t think you do, personally – that every card in this deck has a meaning? Like, say, tarot cards?”

Tommy _does_ know that, actually. He is also very aware of Alfie switching the topic.

“So, you’re here to take a look into my future?”

Both of their voices are so fucking casual that they might as well be talking about the weather.

“Considering that your foreseeable future is going to affect _my_ foreseeable future, mate, it would be very interesting indeed to take a look at your destiny, don’t you think?”

Tommy feels like a man on a wire, hundreds of meters above ground, a careful balancing act between indulging Alfie’s conversational banter and confronting his intentions head-on, no safety net in sight. Truth be told, he wasn’t in the mood for either tonight, but needs must.

“Let’s see, now.” Alfie takes a card off the deck and puts it on the table, squinting at it as if he’s deep in thought and overacting like he’s in a bad soap opera.

“Your past, yes? Hm. Eight of Hearts. _Unexpected visits and an invitation_. Well, now that’s a fitting one, eh? You did barge in rather unannounced, Tommy.”

Tommy keeps still, passive. Alfie isn't deterred by Tommy’s silence, has probably just as much practice with it as Tommy has with Alfie’s chatter on any given day. His lips twitch, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Let’s take a look at the present, then.”

He takes another card and puts it next to the Eight of Hearts.

“Oh, would you look at that,” He exclaims, “Four of Clubs. Means you’ll go on a great adventure.”

“Could also mean dishonesty and deceit.” Tommy counters.

And there it is, that switch in Alfie’s façade. His face changes from innocent to satisfied that Tommy is finally starting to join in on the game. He’s a fucking bastard for thinking that he’s in charge.

“Huh, or it could mean mental stability, which is not the first thing I’d associate with you, so let’s not come to any premature conclusions here.”

He licks his lips and turns over the next card.

“Now let’s take a look at the future, should we? That’s where it gets interesting, after all.” Alfie says. “Ace of Clubs.” He whistles. “Jackpot, eh? That means wealth, prosperity and gaining a shit ton of money. So don’t worry, this plan of yours will work. The cards have decided.”

“You forgot the second part.”

Alfie raises his eyebrows in a silent question. Tommy tilts his head and leans forward.

“That wealth can disappear just as fast as it appears.”

Alfie doesn’t look away. “That would be rather unpleasant, now, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. Tommy says, matching Alfie’s insistent tone. He clenches his jaw and fixes Alfie with a stare. “There’s a lot to lose here.”

“There is indeed.” He says cryptically before leaning back and crossing his arms. Tommy mirrors him.

Alfie watches him for another few moments before nodding to himself. He stacks the cards up neatly before standing up and placing them on the table in front of Tommy. He just stands there, looking at the table and tapping his fingers against the wood rhythmically. The room is dimly lit, and Alfie’s face is almost fully coated in shadow.

Tommy knows one thing: It’s already too late to stop, so he might as well go through with it. He truly doesn’t _want_ Alfie to betray him, for obvious reasons, yet he knows that affording himself that kind of hope can have a dangerous outcome.

He’ll go through with it, and if Alfie fucks him over – which is a thing that Tommy is very well taking into account – then he’ll have to pay for it, hard and unforgiving. No mercy for him this time.

Alfie looks at him then, face unreadable, and gives the table a last knock before he takes his coat, swings it over one hand and grabs his cane with the other. With a last nod, he slowly makes his way towards the door.

“Then let’s hope everyone does their part, so that nothing unfortunate happens.” He mutters before closing the door on his way out and Tommy once again wonders why he got involved with Alfie, when there are safer – albeit more difficult – options available.

_Yes, let’s fucking hope_ , Tommy thinks and presses his forehead against the cool table.

A few hours later, Tommy switches off the light and locks the door, absentmindedly putting a hand into his pocket on his way out. He frowns as he’s met with a smooth surface that wasn’t there this afternoon. He pulls out a card and then hesitates turn it over, as if he’s afraid of what it’s going to show.

The light in the parking lot is sparse, but he doesn’t need much to recognize the distinct shape of black ink on the card.

_Ace of Spades._

Death or good luck.

To him or Sabini, Tommy isn't sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that took a while. Uni is crazy right now, so I'm sorry for the wait!
> 
> The coin trick is shown here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjLLPe5ZhFo at about 7:00 minutes in, if you want to take a look for yourself (it's even with an explanation!)
> 
> The card meanings I got from these sites (https://cafeastrology.com/fortunetellingcards.html, https://www.keen.com/articles/tarot/cartomancy-card-meanings ) which is probably … not very accurate, but I thought it would be fun to include, so. Artistic License.
> 
> This one also isn’t in the movie but I had a strange phase of trying to learn card tricks for a few days, so that’s where that came from.


	17. play

**play** _(noun, verb)_

  1. the conduct, course, or action of a game
  2. to act in a dramatic production
  3. _(card games)_ move a card to a place on the table (either from the players hand, or from elsewhere on the table)
  4. _(card games)_ the stage of the game in which player(s) play cards



_“On a perfectly clear night in Las Vegas, and with the expected crowd of celebrities and eager sports fans piling into the MGM Grand Garden Arena, two of the best boxers in the world prepare to meet after an eight-month dance around and towards each other. It's a historic fight on a historic night, and we are all excited to see the literal Goliath challenge the newcomer Bonnie Gold who is … “_

The TV in the gambling room drones on and barely registers as a background noise when Tommy assembles the team for one last meeting before the plan is put into motion.

“Solomons package arrives at 7:05.” Tommy says. “They go backstage, check the briefcase. Ada, you have to be ready by then. Catch Sabini when he’s heading out onto the main floor again.” Ada nods, mentally following along with the plan.

“You remember your lines?”

“I’m from the NGC, I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Sabini, but I’m afraid there’s an issue with one of your employees. Mrs. Evelyn Carter is not who she pretends to be, she’s in fact a woman named Lizzie Stark, previously convicted of various crimes and not authorized to deal cards in the state of Nevada.“

Ada rattles off her tirade of tasks easily, looking almost bored. “I get a few minutes alone with Sabini, Lizzie makes a scene, I nick the codes from him.”

Tommy nods, satisfied with her answer. He made her rehearse it enough times over the last few days that he could wake her in the middle of the night and she’d slip into the role without hesitation. He wasn’t worried about the acting; that could be achieved by studying your mark and finding out what he wanted. The tricky part was reacting and improvising to unexpected circumstances, and that was a hard thing to prepare for.

“7:30, Esme gets locked in.” He nods towards the woman in question. “Then we’re committed. We have thirty minutes to blow the power or she suffocates. We have two minutes where the motion detectors don’t work, Ada goes down to the vault and then everything goes according to plan.”

Tommy is met with a collection of nods and _yes_ and _sure._ “Any other questions?”

“Considering the fact that we went over the whole plan at least a hundred fucking times already, I’d sincerely doubt your family’s intelligence if someone raises his hand now.” Alfie mutters. The quip earns him a few angry glares, but Tommy intercepts before a racket can start.

“Thank you for your unwanted input, as always, Mr. Solomons.”

“You know me, mate, always happy to help.”

Tommy mentally collects himself and then forces himself to not throttle Alfie then and there. He’s still on the edge from last nights conversation, and even more so now that Alfie pretends it never happened, as if it was just a fever dream on Tommy’s side. Alfie just walked in with Ollie in tow, threw Tommy a nod as a greeting and then sat himself down at the exact same seat he sat yesterday.

“ _Good._ Then you’re off. Everybody get into position and when everything is done, we’ll meet back in the warehouse.”

The room swings into motion at Tommy’s dismissal, everybody taking their necessary gear and checking for any last mistakes.

“Can’t wait to fuck this guy up, I’m tellin’ ya.” Arthur says, his voice close to Tommy’s ear. “Also can’t wait to never see Solomons’ fucking face again.” He spits.

And really, Tommy can’t blame him. Arthur behaved a lot better than Tommy initially anticipated, though Tommy also set the bar quite low.

“Yes, me too, although I’m glad you didn’t rip off his head.”

“Not like I didn’t want to.” Arthur growls. “John held me back.”

Tommy’s mouth twitches and he shakes his head. “I know.”

But Arthur doesn’t smile back, just narrows his eyes before scratching his neck. His voice is quieter though no less bitter.

“Why him, Tommy? We could’ve gotten the money somewhere else and we would’ve found another way inside.”

“Not in three weeks. As much as I hate to say it, we couldn’t have done it without him.”

“We’re not through _yet._ ”

_Don’t I fucking know,_ Tommy thinks, and instead of saying it, he just offers Arthur a cigarette as a pacifying gesture. “Just get through this and we’ll be done.”

“With the job, or with Solomons?”

“Depends.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows. “On what?

Tommy doesn’t answer for a moment, pretending to be busy with his lighter. He ignores Arthurs incredulous stare and grabs his jacket to take his leave.

“Just be ready tonight. We can’t allow ourselves mistakes or miscalculations.” He says, cutting of the conversation swiftly, before the irony of the statement fully settles in.

The lights of the Las Vegas strip seem to shine brighter than usual as Tommy makes his way towards the entrance of the Bellagio.

The fight is advertised on almost every available surface on the strip, and it’s an event, that’s for sure.

Usually, the main clientele of the Bellagio ranged from tourists in cheap blazers and skirts that were just a bit too short to match the dress code on the main floor to high rollers and quite many A-List celebrities in the private rooms. Tonight, however, the rich elite crept out of their villas and mansions to be entertained while sipping on overpriced champagne and hors d'oeuvre.

Tommy himself had donned his best suit; impeccably tailored in navy blue, polished shoes and formfitting waistcoat with a matching tie to make him fit in perfectly with the rest of the crowd.

That’s how Tommy steps inside the very casino he’s robbing today, calm confidence oozing out of his whole demeanour. The time to doubt was long gone, now it was time to execute a plan. He gets himself a drink, walks over to one of the slot machines and sits down, lazily sipping on his whiskey and pretending to be interested in the machine in front of him. He plays a few games, just to keep up his alibi.

He passes Lizzie on his way in, and she catches his eyes for a second without letting her hands stop shuffling the cards. Everybody got an earpiece to stay in contact, so he has Polly’s voice in his ear a few moments later.

_“Package just arrived. Solomons and Sabini are on their way inside.”_

Tommy checks his watch. 7:06, perfectly on time.

The people around him are bustling with energy and excitement. Waitresses with fully loaded trays hurry around the room and keep refilling glasses to keep the masses entertained. Tommy keeps his face carefully neutral, bored even as he sees Alfie and Sabini walk inside. He doesn’t look at them directly as they make their way through the big, carpeted halls to the other end of the room.

Sabini spots him, then, and he whispers something to one of his henchmen without breaking his stride. Alfie pretends to be absorbed in his briefcase. Not even ten minutes later there are two tall, burly men with sunglasses telling Tommy to follow them to the back, if he were so inclined.

_Time to play_ , Tommy thinks.

He empties his drink and buttons up his suit before swiftly following the men.

They step through the door that’s reserved for staff only and Tommy speaks up.

“May I ask why I’m being led backstage?”

“Mr. Sabini wants to see you.” One of the men grunts in Tommy’s direction. “You’ve been blacklisted. Not allowed here.”

They reach a room at the far end of the hallway and the men stop to lead Tommy inside. He raises an eyebrow but obeys wordlessly, taking in the interior of the room. It doesn’t seem to have a distinct function; maybe it’s supply closet, judging from the various pieces of furniture and cardboard boxes.

“No cameras in here.” Tommy says, leaning back against a metal cart and pointing upwards. From the lack of surveillance, it’s very clear that this is the place where Sabini brings the people he wants to deal with in less than legal ways.

The men just grunt again and ignore him. The door closes and he’s left alone.

Finally, after about ten minutes, a familiar face shows up as goon number one opens the door.

Johnny Dogs steps inside and fixes Tommy with what is probably supposed to be an intimidating stare. His eyes betray him, as they sparkle with recognition and Tommy tries his best to signal him to _stay fucking quiet._

“Have fun.” Goon number one and two take a last, mocking look at Tommy and the newly arrived guest and step out the door. Johnny’s face changes in an instant and he gleefully punches Tommy’s shoulder.

“Fucking hell, Tommy, what the fuck kind of crazy job are you running here?”

“Takes too long to explain, Johnny.” He discards his jacket and tie and hangs them over a chair before stepping onto one of the tables in the corner of the room, lifting up the lid of the vent before throwing him a sly smile. “I’ll tell you some other time, now just help me up here.”

Tommy had the layout of the casino memorized to a T, so it was no difficulty to find the right elevator shaft that leads down to the vaults. The employee-only areas aren’t as heavily controlled, so that’s another bonus.

He has a bit of time to kill before Ada would show up, and he keeps himself as still as possible, even though the possibility of someone finding him were slim to none. He went through the plan in his head over and over the last few days and he couldn’t stop himself from repeating it even now, while it was already running.

By now, Alfie would be in the security room, watching his briefcase getting escorted into the vault. Finn and Isiah should be rolling the crate with Esme inside through the casino, getting the real security men to wheel it into the vault. Alfie distracts the men in the security room, Ollie switches the camera feed over to the recorded tape that shows, among other things, a completely empty elevator and not Ada stepping inside the elevator and preparing to climb up through the ceiling by lifting the ceiling plate, which happens precisely _now-_

“Fuck me!” Ada stumbles back down and clutches her chest in surprise. “ _Fuck_ , Tommy, what the _hell_ are you doing here?”

“Now you really didn’t think I was going to sit this one out, did you?” Tommy says and holds out his hand to help her up.

“What, you didn’t trust me?” Ada says, the accusation in the question evident.

“I do now.” He says, opening Ada’s briefcase and pulling out the gear needed to let them down the elevator shaft.

She doesn’t look shaken up anymore, just sighs roughly and eyes him skeptically for a moment longer. “How did you get in here?”

“Promised a friend a million dollars.”

She raises her eyebrows and climbs around the elevator to get to the scaffolding at the bottom. “You don’t have many friends.”

Well, thanks for that. “Johnny Dogs doesn’t count as a friend?”

She doesn’t respond, immersed in her work to fix the mechanism at the steel beams. “I thought you were blacklisted?”

“I am. Technically, I’m still in a supply closet, being beaten up by Johnny Dogs, so … ” He trails off.

She sighs again, this time in exasperation. “Oh, come on, why don’t you just tell me when the plan changes, why do you have to put me through all this?”

She attaches the rope to the mechanism with practised ease. “We had a _moment_ , Tommy. ‘Fucks sake.”

“Where is the fun in telling you?”

And hooks the rope into his belt and Tommy does the same. “We didn’t want to burden you with minor details, you already had enough on your plate.” He says a bit more seriously.

“Minor details, god help me with you, Tommy Shelby.” She says at last, and then they both carefully let go of the steel beams.

Now, they are hanging about 30 meters over the ground on a fine wire and Tommy would be lying if he didn’t feel a spike of dread shooting up his spine at the feeling of being suspended in mid-air.

“These things are going to hold us, right?” Ada says, unknowingly voicing Tommy’s thoughts out loud.

“They should.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

“It’s the best I can do right now, take it or leave it.” Tommy says, his voice giving a metal echo in the contained space. He presses his hand to the earpiece. “Ollie, we’re set.”

In a few seconds, Arthur and John should start the pinch and submerge them in complete darkness.

_“They need a little more time.”_ Ollie replies after a few seconds.

God, a smoke would be nice right now.

“More time? Tell ‘em to speed the fuck up, we’re dangling on a millimetre-thick wire here.” Ada hisses. She grips the wire with one hand and pushes her sweaty hair out of her face with the other. “What the fuck did you get me into here, Tommy.”

He gives her a little laugh at that. “I gave you a choice. You said yes, remember?”

Tommy only sees her throw him a glare before the space is drowned in darkness. Finally. Tommy pulls out a couple of glowsticks, cracks them and lets them fall down through the shaft – now clear of motion detector sensors – until they hit the ground. It takes a good deal longer than anticipated and he hears Ada swallow.

“Here we go.”

The safety clicks off and Tommy’s stomach drops as they dive down the shaft until the wire clicks into place again and they stop a hair’s breadth away from the floor. Adrenaline is cursing through Tommy and they scramble to cut the wire. It's not a moment too late; the electricity comes back on a few seconds later.

It's quick work after that. They push the elevator doors in the shaft to the side to throw a smoke bomb out into the hallway to knock out the security men and then make their way over to the vault door.

“There is a woman with a good 150 million behind this door.”

“Let’s get her out, then.” Ada says, handing Tommy the package containing the explosive material. He swiftly connects a few wires and attaches it to the door and takes a step back.

Esme knocks against the door as a _ready-when-you-are-_ signal and exactly ten seconds later, Tommy pushes the button on the remote to detonate the explosive.

Klick.

Nothing.

Tommy frowns at the remote in his hand and pushes the button again.

Klick. Klick. Klick.

Still nothing. He frowns.

_What the-_

“Did you check the batteries?”

Tommy looks at Ada who in turn tilts her head at him in a belittling manner when he doesn’t give her an answer. He couldn’t really have forgotten the …

“You know,” Ada raises her eyebrows and points at him accusingly, “if you lose focus in this game for one second- “

“Yes, I know. Somebody gets hurt.” He interrupts her, not willing to listen to a mockery of his own speech and takes the pack of back-up batteries she hands him. He resolutely ignores her devilishly smug look as she bites her lip and proceeds to fix the remote.

Still distracted by the sheer unbelievable bewilderment that his perfectly crafted plan almost failed because of a few empty batteries, Tommy carelessly pushes the button and gets a deafening bang followed by a loud crash.

“Jesus Christ.” Still in shock of the – ironically unexpected – explosion they push open the doors and are greeted by an almost completely wrecked room, coated in dust.

“Where the _fuck_ were you?” Esme welcomes them with her arms outstretched, causally walking out behind one of the destroyed shelves. “Took your goddamn time now, didn’t you?”

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Ada says with a look thrown in Tommy’s direction. “We had some serious obstacles to overcome first.”

It's surreal, Tommy thinks, not even registering Ada’s teasing glance. He’s planned this for over two years, thought of every mistake, every detail that would be important and every way it could go wrong. He went through the whole scenario in his head a thousand times but really standing in the vault he only knew out of photos, blueprints and various floorplans makes it finally real.

It’s a rush that’s unlike anything else. _This_ is what they worked for the last few weeks.

“What now?” Esme says.

Tommy looks around, takes in the state of the room and nods towards the shelves.

“Now we pack up the money into these bags,” Tommy takes the plain black bags out of the crate and throws them to Ada, “the flyers and bricks into these.” He says and throws Esme the other batch of bags. “And then we wait.”

Ada presses her hand to the earpiece. “Polly, you’re up. Give ‘em hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! Surprise! It’s Johnny Dogs!   
> And I just realized that I have such a hard time writing Arthur. Well.
> 
> Also, the movie relies so much on visuals, and since I don’t have that here AND I only have Tommy’s POV to work with (I didn’t feel confident enough to switch POV in the middle to someone else), this was…interesting to write. I sadly had to leave some scenes of the movie out, since Tommy had no way of seeing them, though I hope it works!


	18. coffee housing

**coffee housing** _(verb)_

_variants: coffeehousing_

  1. The act of distracting an opponent in a game by chattering.
  2. _(poker)_ Talking in an attempt to mislead other players about the strength of a hand. This is also called _speech play_.



_“Who the hell is this?”_

_“The woman who’s robbing you.”_

The connection down in the vault is bad, but it's enough to listen to Polly’s phone call with Sabini.

_“I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”_

Tommy mentally maps out Sabini’s actions and he should be on his way down to the security room by now.

 _“Are you watching your monitors?”_ Polly continues, “ _Okay. Keep watching.”_

The fake tape must show them packing up the money in neat stacks right now.

There is noise on Sabini’s side now and the only bad part is that Tommy can’t see Sabini’s face as he realizes what’s going on.

 _“In this town, your luck can change just that quickly.”_ Polly adds.

There is a pause, and then it’s Sabini’s angry, biting voice over the phone.

_“Alright. Fucking alright, then. You proved your point. You broke into my vault. Congratulations, you’re a dead woman.”_

_“Maybe.”_ Polly muses.

 _“Maybe?”_ Sabini repeats indignantly, still feeling run over by the events unfolding in front of his eyes. _“May I ask how you expect to leave? Do you really believe I’m going to allow you to bring bags full of money – my money – out of my casino doors? Just like that?”_

_“Oh no, please, do you think we’re amateurs? You’re going to carry it out for us.”_

She’s playing it cocky and Tommy wants to laugh. He’d be furious if he were on the other end of that taunting voice, not that he’d ever admit it to Polly.

_“And why would I do that?”_

_“Take a closer look at your monitor. As your manager’s probably reporting to you now, you have a little over 150 million in your vault tonight. You may notice that we’re only packing up about half of that. The other half, we’re leaving in your vault, boobytrapped as our hostage. You let our half go, and you get to keep yours. That’s the deal. If you try and stop us, we’ll blow up all of the cash.”_

She pauses, letting the words sink in for a moment. _“Mr. Sabini, you can lose 75 million tonight secretly or you can lose 150 million publicly. Dealer’s choice.”_

By now, Sabini must’ve told someone to call 911, which Ollie is intercepting before it can reach the emergency call enter.

 _“Okay. You have a deal.”_ Sabini’s voice cracks over the phone again. He sounds far from defeated, but it’s not like he can do anything but go with the plan.

 _“Fantastic. Here’s what you do. My guys in the vault will deposit six bags into the vault elevator. The elevator will rise to your cages. Three of your guards will pick up the bags and carry them out into the casino.”_ The exact bags that they are now filling with a few strip club flyers and weights to make them seem heavier.

“ _Now, if they take more than 20 seconds to reach the casino floor, or if there’s any indication a switch has been made, we’ll blow the money in the bags, and the money in the vault.”_

 _“He’s in the casino, by the slots.”_ It's hushed, not directly said into the phone but to the staff in the room with Sabini.

 _“Of course I’m in the casino.”_ Polly chimes in. “ _In fact, I’m staying in your hotel. I have two words for you: mini bar.”_

She is enjoying this so much, Tommy can tell.

_“As soon as your guards hit the casino floor, a white, unmarked van is going to pull up in your valet station. Your guards will load the bags into the van’s rear. If anyone so much as approaches the driver’s door, we’ll blow everything. When I get word the van is away, and the money is secure, my men will exit the building, and once their safety is confirmed, you will get your vault back.”_

Esme and Ada are finished with packing and the bags are placed into the elevator, ready to be loaded into the modified van that’s taking Sabini men on a – technically very useless – road trip.

Tommy takes a look at his watch. The rest of the group should arrive in the SWAT car about now, if everything is going smoothly.

_“All right. Now… I have complied with your every request, would you agree?”_

_“I would.”_ Polly agrees.

 _“Good, ‘cause now I have one of my own.”_ Sabini says, not hiding his fury anymore. _“Run and hide, asshole. Run and hide. If you should be picked up next week buying a 100.000 dollar sports car in Newport beach, I’m going to be supremely disappointed, because I want my people to find you, and when they do, rest assured, we’re not going to hand you over to the fucking police. We’ll fuck you up worse than you could ever imagine. So, my advice to you again is this: run and hide. Now that is all that I ask.”_

“I don’t plan to run.” Tommy says, even though Sabini can't hear him. He's going nowhere. He's staying exactly where he is, and he’s going to watch Sabini fall and it’ll be _glorious._

Two minutes and three seconds later Tommy, Ada and Esme wait calmly in the vault as the SWAT team storms the building, with Polly on the lead. Lizzie, Finn, Isiah and Alfie follow her, clad in the same heavy black uniforms.

 _“Night goggles on, prepare to cut power.”_ Her voice is distorted enough by the black helmet that Sabini won't guess that she’s the woman who just played him on the phone.

The room is dark again, as the security room cuts the power. The group walks in and Esme and Ada don’t waste time to take the extra guard uniforms out of the bags they brought with them.

_“Reaching elevator doors now, we got two guards, bound, unconscious. Wait a minute- “_

“Guys! Guys! Someone’s here! Someone’s here!” Ada screams in a frightened voice. She has to hold back the laughter while she does it, finishing to put her SWAT uniform back on, but it's convincing if you don’t see her face. It's convincing enough for Sabini in the monitoring room upstairs, which is all that counts.

Polly shoots a few times into the air and the others make a racket. After the money bags are out of the way, someone else throws a grenade into the room and then-

_“We need power!”_

The room is lit up again, and the monitor in the security room now shows what’s actually happening. A SWAT team standing in the middle of the vault with bags of gear besides them, looking at the remains and debris of Las Vegas’ most secure and unbreakable casino vault.

_“It appears a high explosive incendiary device has been detonated. I repeat: had been detonated.”_

It's the icing on the cake, Tommy thinks, but he has to get back to the locked room that he’s getting beat up in, to Sabini’s knowledge, because the man in question is currently on his way down to the vault to take a look at the disaster himself.

He can hear Polly greeting Sabini through his earpiece on his way back. _“Sir, our search yielded no suspects, nor were we able to determine at this time how they entered or exited the premises.”_

 _“Take your men out.”_ His voice is tight, clipped.

_“Sir, may I suggest you stand outside until the bomb squad- “_

_“Now!”_

_“Alright, it’s your vault. Blue team, move it out!”_

And out they go, strolling through the casino with 150 million in tow, just like that.

Tommy makes it back to the supply room just in time.

“I hope you made some noise for the goons out there.” Tommy says as he climbs back in through the ceiling and Johnny grins at him.

“Sure did, Tommy. I beat you up good.” Johnny says, and Tommy can see it, taking in the demolished interior of the room.

“Good. Now, punch me, and don’t hold back, it has to be convincing.” He says, loosening the buttons on his shirt and dirtying up his pants a bit.

 _“We’re on our way out. No difficulties in the casino, none on the way to the warehouse until now. John and Arthur blew up the van on the airport, Sabini’s going to be pissed.”_ Polly says, updating him on the situation.

Speaking of the devil, fast footsteps are approaching the door and the handle turns down just as Johnny throws a good punch to Tommy’s stomach, and Tommy scrambles down to his knees for drama’s sake.

Sabini steps in, holding himself barely composed. He silently gestures for his goons to pick up Tommy.

“How’s the fight going, Darby?” Tommy says, exaggerating his breathing a bit.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches Tommy from top to bottom. He steps closer, his hand curling into a fist at his side.

“The logo.”

 _What?_ That wasn’t in the script and Tommy is suddenly alert at the unexpected answer.

“I’m sorry? Should I know what you’re referring to?”

His gaze bores into Tommy, and other men might have scrambled to beg for mercy at that, but Tommy Shelby isn't other men. He's the fucking guy who robbed him, and Sabini doesn’t even know. Suspects, sure. Why else would he be here?

But still, Tommy is momentarily confused as to what Sabini means. He’s normally not that cryptic.

“You forgot to put in the logo.” He says, and that doesn’t clear up Tommy’s confusion at all. He keeps his face carefully neutral. Sabini’s mouth twitches in anger, wanting to make a grimace.

“A week ago, I had the logo of the Bellagio put into the floor of my vault.”

Fuck. No, fuck _._

“And today, while I played the camera feed again after someone _fucking robbed me_ ,” he suddenly screams at Tommy now, “there was no logo on the floor.”

Fucking hell. This couldn’t be- _Fuck_. They finished the model of the vault before the logo was put in, and even though they had access to the camera feed, Ollie wasn’t watching it 24/7. Or maybe he did, Tommy thought, ice running down his spine, and Alfie instructed him to stay quiet.

“Someone robbed you?” Is what Tommy asks instead.

If Sabini would have spotted the missing logo while they were still down in the vault, he would have known that he was seeing a tape all along and the whole plan would have failed then and there. But then again, Alfie was there with them, down in the vault as a SWAT team member, so he would have been caught too. Maybe he made a deal with Sabini?

Tommy’s brain is running overdrive, but this isn't the right time to think about this, he has to keep his focus on pretending to be as innocent and unknowing as realistically acceptable.

Sabini’s face is a grimace now, ugly and angry, and he's sneering at Tommy, “Yes, someone fucking robbed me, you asshole, and I know it was you.”

“Me?” Tommy is putting it on a bit too much, but he can't resist. “I was in here the whole time, how the hell could I have gone down to your vault?”

“That’s the fucking question, isn't it?”

Tommy’s heart is racing from the adrenaline, the fear, the confusion. Maybe he’s too obvious, too calm for a man who’s facing the guy who put him in prison. He can't help it though, the mistake of the logo is a hurdle he hadn't anticipated, hadn't considered. Why would he? It's such stupid little detail.

“Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but I can help you find the guy who robbed you.”

“Oh, so you are going to help me out? Just like that? After I put you in prison?”

“No, Mr. Sabini. But I am a business man, so I am willing to make a deal with you.”

He laughs out loud at that and it sounds like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard, irritating and shiver inducing.

“That’s not the first time today that I made a deal with your people that went south, Mr. Shelby.” He sneers, “I’m not inclined to do it again.”

Tommy is very aware of the gun that Sabini has in his holster, he very unsubtly showed him when he put his hands on his hips, an unsuccessful attempt of trying to seem bigger and more threatening.

Tommy puts on his best no-bullshit face as he leans towards Sabini. “I have no _fucking_ idea what you’re on about, Sabini, but whatever went on in your casino today was none of my fucking business.”

It's going to buy him a few days, at best. The lie is transparent and Sabini is a very paranoid man, but there are limits as to what he can do to Tommy right now. Sabini is not above murder, but he won’t do it in cold blood right now, not on the night of the biggest boxing fight of the year, not when there is enough camera footage that shows the goons leading Tommy back to the staff area. The only thing Polly would have to do is make an anonymous call to the police and they’d have Sabini on a hook.

It's that exact thought that Tommy clings to while he blatantly lies to Sabini’s face, even as he _knows_ that Sabini isn't buying it in the least. He’s nodding, dragging a hand down his face while he considers his options.

And it’s thrilling in a way, that Tommy was in prison, lost most of his business, but Sabini is still terrified enough of him that he blacklisted Tommy, is afraid enough to consider him an enemy, still. Tommy is _pleased_ with it, revels in the knowledge that he has power over Sabini and that in this moment, it only grew.

“You’ve made your point, Sabini.” Tommy gestures to Johnny, who kept himself mostly passive. “I won't step foot in your casino again. But know this: if you ever set your goons on me again, you’ll regret it.” He puts enough cold fury into the statement to make it believable.

Sabini has other problems to attend to, and since he has no tangible proof of Tommy’s involvement, he can't keep him here. His nose crunches up, and he almost growls, but they both know that Tommy not only won this fight, he won the whole war. Whatever meek blow Sabini dishes out in the future will be no match for Tommy, not with the money and more importantly, the power he just gained.

“Get out of my sight.”

The men roughly escort Tommy out to the back door of the casino. He feels like he’s in a dream, swimming towards the light at the end of the tunnel, wading through a haze. There’s something blooming in his chest. Victory maybe, but he’s too wound up to enjoy it, yet. The adrenaline hasn’t left him, he’s still buzzing with excitement, high with the shock and triumph of actually pulling it off, even if it was planned perfectly. All the emotion, the shock, the anger, the hysteria; it all catches up with him, and he basks in it, lets it wash over him in this exact moment.

Later, he’ll come back down. Maybe tomorrow.

Now, he’s out.

It's done.

He’s going home, and there'll be 150 million waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The heist is done!  
> Ignore this next part if you didn’t watch Oceans 11 and aren’t interested in my little rant here.
> 
> 1) Alright. Listen up. There is a fucking plot hole in the movie that I have found out about at midnight while writing the scene in the vault and wondering why something wasn’t working out.  
> In the movie it's like this: they make the deal with Benedict to put half of the money into the elevator and Benedict’s men take it out and load it into the van, which drives to some airport. And then, the Ocean team comes into the casino disguised as the SWAT team and switches the bags they brought (containing … just stuff? I guess?) with the bags in the vault (with the real money now). THEN we find out that the bags in the van does not, in fact, contain any money (surprise!) but only flyers for strippers.  
> Now here’s the million-dollar question: how the fuck did they get the bags with the flyers into the vault? Yen got inside with the crate (and there wasn’t any room for that much extra material), Danny and Linus got inside through the vault, and that’s it.  
> It can't be brought in by the SWAT team (like I always assumend) because they load the money first and THEN the SWAT team arrives. So, what the fuck.  
> Someone explained it better [here](https://sites.psu.edu/pellegrinopassionblog/2015/10/13/oceans-11/)
> 
> 2) We’ll also just hand-wave the fact that Tommy actually couldn’t have gone back to Johnny in the supply room (the motion detectors are on and how the fuck would he even get up the elevator vault again?). The movie ignored it, so I’ll ignore it, too. 
> 
> 3) The movie also ignored that they guys had access to the camera feed 24/7 and somehow didn’t realize that PEOPLE CAME INTO THE VAULT TO PUT THE LOGO ON THE FLOOR. Jesus. 
> 
> Don’t get me wrong, I still love this movie to pieces, I was just so done while writing this, it HAS TO BE SAID.
> 
> Anyways, there’s one chapter (and the epilogue) left and y’all know what’s coming ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	19. end-of-the-day-betting effect

**end-of-the-day betting effect** ( _noun)_

  1. _(poker)_ A term used to describe the behaviour of some players as they are nearing the end of their gaming session.
  2. A cognitive bias reflected in the tendency for bettors to take gambles with higher risk and higher reward at the end of their betting session to try to make up for losses.



Fresh air is a shock to Tommy’s overheated skin. He didn’t even realize how much he sweat through his suit, but the cold breeze slaps him into the face like he’s running straight into a brick wall.

He tries to be inconspicuous on his way home, winks a cab over and tells the driver to let him out a few streets next to the warehouse and then proceeds to lose everybody that might be tailing him.

The SWAT truck is already waiting for him in the warehouse and with it the group of people who made his plan reality, standing together in a group next to the makeshift kitchen that has SWAT gear, fake glasses and casino uniforms scattered all around the place.

There are about five open bottles of champagne being passed around, with Arthur and John holding four of them while Finn, Isiah and Esme are trying to get their fair share. Polly is drinking straight out of the fifth bottle, not even bothering with a glass. Even Alfie is holding a celebratory flute of champagne in a surprisingly elegant way, standing a bit on the side with Ada and Lizzie next to him. Ollie looks like he needs two months of vacation judging from the nerve-wracked look on his face.

Tommy forgets about the fiasco with Sabini just for a second and feels a spark of joy at seeing his family and friends and well, Alfie, safe and uninjured. And, of course, the 150 million packed up neatly in the truck behind them.

“You couldn’t wait for me, eh?” He bellows out and it earns him a chorus of answering shouts and whoops from the group. There are hugs, claps on the shoulders, even more hugs and Tommy lets himself be swept along for once, not protesting the treatment. He gets champagne over his suit but it doesn’t matter, they seem to be stuck in a bubble of buzz and hysteria.

For a few minutes there is a careful, temporary bond established between all of them, his family and Alfie and Ollie. Everybody did their part, the money is here, the celebration is on. Tommy nearly forgets the nagging feeling in his head that wants to confront Alfie about the new details he learned in his conversation with Sabini. He might have done his part, but there’s no way in hell Tommy is going to silently accept that Alfie didn’t at least have the intention to cross him at one point in time.

For now, Tommy loudly clears his throat and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now in the possession of 150 million dollars, give or take a few thousands.”

There are whistles from Arthur again and John laughs. “Fuck yeah, we showed ‘em!”

“And as nice as this celebration here is, we need to scatter, we can't all stay here any longer together. Polly, you take care of the money.” He says and she dangles out the keys as an affirmation. “Everyone else, keep your head down for the next few weeks, and don’t draw attention to yourselves or make any trouble.”

Ada raises an eyebrow at that. “The Peaky Blinders, not making trouble? That’s new.”

“I stand corrected. Don’t draw attention to yourselves more than usual.” He says, and after a moment he adds, “That means you consider yourself a Peaky Blinder again?”

She licks her lips, trying not to smile. “Don’t push it.”

The commotion dies down after that; Ada drives off in her own car and offers to drive Lizzie home too, Arthur and John take Finn and Isiah with them to continue celebrating somewhere else and Polly, as promised, takes care of the money.

Tommy helps her unload the money bags and they put them into the van together. Now that the initial shock is over, the tension creeps back into his shoulders and he tries his best to hide it from Polly.

Across the room, Alfie whispers something into Ollies ear and the boy nods and takes off. Alfie stays where he is, leaning against the counter of the kitchen. His cane is right beside him, resting horizontally on the table. Tommy can almost put aside the rising sense of trepidation in his stomach. He pushes it down, forces himself to replace it with anger, because it's easier to deal with.

“What is it?” Polly says quietly beside him. “We made 150 million in one night and you look like you’re about to face a firing squad. Everything went well with Sabini?”

The spark of anger is a flame now, but it’s not directed at Polly. Tommy grits his teeth to keep his cool. “I’m good. It went as well as it could have. We’ll have a few days to organize how we’ll plan to continue. I’ll come by tomorrow so we can talk.”

She slams the door with so much force that it echoes in the whole warehouse. “Tommy- “

“I’m _good._ ” He repeats, not nearly convincing enough, but Polly lets it go. “Get the money somewhere safe.”

Polly looks at him in silence with one eyebrow raised. After a few seconds she sighs and lets Tommy off the hook as she realizes that she won’t get anything out of him tonight.

“Whatever it is, get it sorted out. We need to get back into business, and I need your head _clear_.” She taps his head with her finger and gives him a poignant look before entering the van. She clearly meant for it to sound menacing but the bags under her eyes and her heavy step give her away.

Tommy just nods at her, trying his best to look reasonable and gives her a genuine smile. All the while, he can feel Alfie’s gaze on the back of his neck, burning into him. Polly drives off, and the silence that falls over the warehouse makes the blood in Tommy’s ears pound even louder.

He meets Alfie’s eyes for the first time since he came here. He made his way over to the – now empty – SWAT car, standing on the back doors. Although worn out from wearing the heavy SWAT suit and climbing down the vault, he looks flushed from the champagne and the thrill of it all.

Nobody is here anymore and Tommy used up all of his patience tonight. His family is safe, the money is cared for and he isn't in immediate danger of getting shot in the next few hours, so there is no one holding him back when he strides over to Alfie with a firm step.

“Did you know?” He asks with barely concealed anger. “Alfie, did you know about the logo?”

“’M sorry?” Alfie turns around, fixing Tommy with a look. He looks truly baffled for a second and his tone is irritated, as if the thing he really wanted to say was _what the fuck are you on about?_

“You heard me.” Tommy reaches him, grabs him by the collar of his shirt and pins him to the car door in one smooth movement. “Did you know about the _fucking_ logo he put into the fucking vault?”

He’s overreacting and he knows it. He bloody knows it and he doesn’t care, because Alfie brings out so many reactions in him and right now he’s running on adrenaline and the thrill of a heist gone well but also _not_ well and fuck, _fuck_ he needs a justification to get angry at Alfie, to have an outlet for the shit he pushed down over the last few weeks.

Alfie tenses up, one hand grabbing Tommy’s wrist out of reflex, the other still holding on to the car behind him. He doesn’t reach for his gun. His voice sounds soothing, but is hiding steel underneath when he says, “Tommy dear, I think you should calm down first before you- “

“Alfie!” Tommy yells, tightening his hold and pushing Alfie against the car with his full weight.

“What does it _fucking_ matter now?” He stops pretending to be calm and shouts right back. “We have the money, we got away, left not proof, so I’m asking you what _the fuck_ does it matter now? Everything went well, what’s your problem, mate?”

“You- Fuck.” Tommy is so fucking angry at the man in front of him, the way he makes him feel, for the things he makes him do, for the things Tommy does _for_ him.

“And the thing with the power station, the mistake that we could have very easily exploited is now _suddenly_ fixed, even though nobody knew there was a leak someone like us could have taken advantage of.” Tommy spits.

“So what- Now you’re just out here blamin’ me for all the shit that went wrong,” Alfie says, deflecting the question. “Maybe your plan wasn’t that flawless after all, ever thought about that, Tommy?”

“It’s just really fucking convenient, is all I’m saying.” Tommy sneers. “Did you swap the batteries, too?”

“The- fucking what?” For the first time, there is real confusion hidden under Alfie’s worked up façade.

Instead of answering, Tommy’s right hand reaches for his gun but Alfie is faster and grabs it before he can pull the gun out. They stand like that for a few tense seconds, predator and prey, only Tommy doesn’t know who’s who.

Maybe they’re both predators, ready to destroy each other.

The only sound in the vast space of the warehouse is their breathing, harsh and laboured. Alfie’s eyes haven't left Tommy’s once, he’s staring at him with heat, almost _fury_ burning in his eyes. Tommy stares back, hard and unforgiving, he can’t look away now, because then he’d lose whatever battle they’re currently fighting. He is locked in place by Alfie’s grip and Alfie’s stare but simultaneously feels the restless desire to _move_ , to do _something_.

“Now you fucking listen to me and use your fucking brain for a moment, yeah?” Alfie tilts his head so he is closer to him, his voice deep and rough. “How the fuck, yeah, how the _fuck_ could I have known about some bloody logo on the floor in someone else’s fucking _high-security vault_?”

And then Alfie grabs him by the back of his neck and pulls him closer so that they’re almost touching. Tommy feels himself tensing up and his breath catches in his throat. They’re the same height, and Tommy momentarily spares a thought to the fact that they’ve been in this position before, only with the roles reversed. But where he felt a brick wall against his back and the smell of summer air last time, it's only heat creeping up his spine and Alfie’s hot breath on his mouth now, _so close_. Alfie’s thumb moves over the skin behind Tommy’s ear, unconscious back and forth motions that contradict his harsh breathing and his almost unhinged gaze.

“I didn’t fucking know.” Alfie says again and Tommy can't seem to form a reply and he doesn’t have to, it turns out, because then Alfie pulls him even closer and _kisses_ him, urgent and fired up and Tommy’s stomach drops with the shock of it all. There is no finesse to it, just frenzied movements as Alfie’s beard rubs against his face and it jolts something awake in Tommy, puts him into motion and he presses himself closer to Alfie and pushes his thigh between Alfie’s legs, almost out of instinct.

What the fuck, what the _fuck_ -

Alfie groans, a deep sound against Tommy’s lips, and cards his hand up Tommy’s skull, grabbing a fist full of hair, hard enough to hurt. Tommy’s head tips back and he has to take a breath and chokes back a gasp, more out of surprise at the move than any actual sensation. Tommy is kissing back, why the _fuck_ is he kissing back and not pulling out his gun? His hand is still on Alfie’s coat, white-knuckled, because he doesn’t know where else to put it and what else to _do._

Tommy pulls his lips away a fraction and he revels in the fact that Alfie tries to chase him back. Alfie opens his eyes and looks at Tommy. There is a smirk forming on his face, hidden by his beard and just barely there, but it drives Tommy wild, just like Alfie’s hand on his waist is, scorching and hot.

The gun is forgotten by now, it's just Alfie’s arm around his waist, roughly pulling him closer.

There is so much heat, so much tension, or maybe it's because every single one of Tommy’s senses is heightened, reinforced. Alfie smells like sweat and rum, his suit feels rough under Tommy’s hands but his lips are wet, soft, sliding against Tommy’s own greedily, as if he can't get enough.

“That what we’re doing now, sweetheart?” Alfie’s tone is hoarse and surprisingly amused and it makes rage coil in Tommy stomach again, for some reason. It makes him lean forward to bite at Alfie’s lower lip until he tastes blood and he gets a sharp hiss from him in return.

“Huh- “Alfie huffs out a breath and the hand in Tommy’s hair tightens almost painfully. It feels like a fight, gets Tommy’s blood pumping and his cock is half-hard now, he realizes. God, _fuck._

They’re kissing again, wet lips sliding against each other and it’s not as frantic as before, but still far from gentle. Tommy doesn’t know if he could handle gentle right now.

Alfie’s moves are more deliberate, he’s carding his hand from around Tommy’s waist to the front, drags it down his stomach in a hot line until he stops and hooks one finger in Tommy’s belt loops.

“You want me to help you with that problem there?” Alfie says, and he’s really not a picture of composure right now, but he sounds so smug about it while he punctuates the statement with pushing his thing up against Tommy’s crotch, and Tommy is fucking annoyed at him, the bastard, like he isn’t pressing his own hard on against Tommy’s thigh without an ounce of shame.

“Shut the fuck up.” Tommy says, and it comes out less assertive than he’d like, because Alfie’s fingers busy themselves with opening Tommy’s belt buckle. There is a slight tremor in his hands too, Tommy notices, but his fingers are steady and sure and Tommy can't stop watching as Alfie pushes his hand into his trousers and then fuck- that’s a hand on his cock now, _fuck._

Lips drag over the sensitive skin on Tommy’s neck and Alfie says, “Yeah, that’s it, eh?”, and Tommy unconsciously turns his head to give Alfie more room, lets him drag his teeth over the tendons under his skin. He feels heat rushing to his face, because Alfie sounds like he really wants to know, wants to be sure that Tommy _likes_ it.

Fuck, he has Alfie’s hand on his cock but his words make Tommy’s body hot and his cock twitch. Alfie isn’t even doing much, just stroking him, twisting his wrist just right, and he’s– he’s done this before. He’s definitely done this before, Tommy thinks, because the angle is slightly off, so it should be bad but it _isn’t_ , Alfie’s movements are sure and confident.

“Fucking- ” Tommy hates how dry his voice is, “shut up.”

Alfie just hums and starts to move his hand in earnest. It feels good, so fucking good and Tommy _hates_ that he likes it, he wants to punch Alfie in the face but he can't do that, so he settles for biting his neck, clawing at his shirt. Alfie exhales roughly and twitches forward.

He’s watching Tommy’s reaction, watching his own hand disappear in Tommy’s underwear where the head of his cock peaks out and it's _unnerving,_ is what it is. His gaze feels as heavy as his touch does and Tommy can't deal with it, so he grabs Alfie by the neck and tilts his head to the side and kisses him again, works his mouth open so he can't keep fucking _watching_ him.

Alfie drags his hand up, the one that’s not currently jerking off Tommy, and pushes Tommy’s jacket back and down and out of the way. The movement is firm, but clumsy and uncoordinated, as if all of his energy is directed towards Tommy’s cock. Tommy didn’t realize how hot he was until the cold air hits his sweaty waistcoat. God, fuck, they don’t even stop kissing, Tommy just presses Alfie back against the car harder and pushes his hand down to palm the front of Alfie’s pants.

“Well, fuck.” Alfie huffs out. “You looked just like that when I- _fuck_ , when I pushed you ‘gainst that wall a few weeks ago, you remember? You remember that? ‘Course you do, Tommy. Did you think about it? Hm? When you were touchin’ yourself?”

“No.” It's the truth, for once, but it doesn’t matter right now, Alfie wouldn’t believe him anyways.

Alfie isn't deterred, he's doesn’t stop moving his hand and fuck- Tommy is close, he can feel it.

“You like it when I talk?”

It doesn’t really come out as a question, more like Alfie was granted with a sudden epiphany while jerking Tommy off, like he’s stating a newly learned fact. And Tommy says, “No,” with a strangled voice, like it makes any difference now, like Alfie doesn’t know what a blatant lie it is, with Tommy’s breathless tone.

Tommy isn't opposed to having people’s focus on him, but Alfie is so fucking _intense_ , watching Tommy’s every reaction and he can't fucking take it, so he kisses him again, pushes his leg up higher and he’s rewarded with a deep moan against his own lips.

And, oh- Alfie doesn’t even have to speed up for Tommy to get closer, he just swipes his thumb over Tommy’s cock and squeezes in exactly the right way and it's a _delicious_ kind of pleasure that shoots up his spine and then Tommy loses the coordination to do anything else besides panting against Alfie’s mouth as he comes. He tries to suppress the shiver that runs through him, but the fight is futile.

“That’s it, yeah, like that, hm? Just like that- ”

“ _Shut up,_ Alfie _.”_

“Make me.” Alfie is breathing just as hard as him but he makes a quiet humming sound that Tommy can feel more than he actually hears.

God, fuck, Tommy isn't going to be outdone by _Alfie_ of all people, so he tugs at his trousers, wills his hands to listen to what his head wants them to do. He shoves his hand down past Alfie’s underwear and takes a hold of his cock.

He tries not to think about the fact that this is the first time he’s touching another man like this. It's not like Alfie is _special_ in any way, he’s just _here_ and _convenient._

“You fucking, _ah-_ ” Alfie makes a primal noise in the back of his throat as Tommy tightens his hand a bit. That, at long last, makes Alfie shut up, who would’ve thought. He clutches the back of Tommy’s waistcoat and pants into Tommy’s neck, the hot air ghosting over Tommy’s skin makes goose bumps raise all over his body.

The only saving grace in all this mess, Tommy thinks later, is the fact that it didn’t take Alfie very long to come either. There is a strange comfort in knowing that he was just as pent up as Tommy was, minutes ago.

Alfie’s breath is hitching and he’s coming seconds later, clenching his hand into Tommy’s shirt and biting his neck and _that_ almost makes Tommy’s cock twitch again. He’s still hot all over and his skin feels like it isn’t his own.

“Fuck.” Alfie mutters as Tommy pulls his hand out of Alfie’s trousers. The room comes back to him, bit by bit as the fog clears and he feels like he’s being woken up from a trance. He traces his bottom lip with his tongue and it faintly tastes like iron and blood and Alfie.

Yeah. _Fuck_ indeed.

It was Alfie, of course, who broke the silence.

“The fuck was that thing with the batteries about?”

Tommy drops his head backwards against the car door and exhales roughly. His skin is still tingling with energy, only slightly dulled now and his heart is hammering in his chest. Fuck.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, fuck no. I’m getting that story, one way or another.” His voice sounds hoarse and he isn't even trying to hide it, the bastard.

“Just drop it, Alfie.” He says sharply. And oh, wasn’t it strange to get right back to bantering while he can still recall how Alfie’s cock felt in his hand?

Fuck.

He has to shoot Alfie now, Tommy thinks. They can’t just go on like nothing happened when something did indeed fucking happen between them and Tommy can still see the proof of it on his trousers where he wiped his hand, which, in hindsight was not the best decision.

“They’ll lock you up again, you do know that, yeah?”

The sudden change in topic is both a relief and an irritation. Tommy takes it as his cue to start moving and pushes himself away from the car to pick up his suit jacket from the floor. It's dusty and dirty and there’s mud on it, but he couldn’t care less right now and puts it on.

“They might. Not for robbing a casino, though.”

“Yeah, but for violating parole.”

Tommy finally does take a look at Alfie, who still leans against the car, weight mostly on one leg. His eyes are almost fully closed. Almost. Tommy doesn’t give him the chance to delve more into the problem he was very well aware of. “Are you going to just stand around here?”

“Mhh. Left my cane over there.” He says, gesturing to the kitchen with heavy hands. He fastened up his belt, thank god, but his shirt is still crumpled and hanging over his trousers.

Maybe wanting to shoot Alfie was a bit of a dramatic reaction in hindsight.

“Tough luck.” Tommy replies. “I won't go get it for you.”

“And did I fucking ask you to?” Alfie says, disgruntled at being belittled. “No, I didn’t. You can just fuck right off, mate.” He makes a flourish motion with his hand. “Get off my property.”

_That’s not your property,_ Tommy almost shoots back before remembering that this is, in fact, Alfie’s warehouse they just fucked in.

“I’ll call you in three to six months.” Tommy clears his throat. “About the money.”

Alfie opens his eyes and Tommy forces himself not to look away. “I expect you to.”

Tommy nods one last time, grabs his car keys from the table walks outside. He doesn’t turn around, but he can hear Alfie throw him a last _Goodnight, Tommy_ as he steps into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord help me, I wrote the sex scene while my mother sat next to me on the sofa. But here it is! Finally. I re-read this scene about a hundred times, so I pretty much don't know if this is any good, but I hope you guys like it!
> 
> Next up is just the epilogue, and then we're finished babyyy


	20. jackpot

**jackpot** _(noun)_

  1. A lucky development or substantial success.
  2. The top prize in a game or contest (such as a lottery) that is typically a large fund of money formed by the accumulation of unwon prizes.
  3. _(poker)_ A game of jackpot poker or jackpots, which is a variant of five-card draw with an ante from each player, no blinds, and an opening requirement of a pair of jacks or better.



_Three to six months later._

The air is colder now, not as stifling hot and dry when Tommy steps out of prison yet another time. He isn’t greeted by the blazing sun this time, burning down on him, but an earthy scent of recent rain that washes over the parking lot and drowns out the stinging smell of petrol and asphalt.

The little details are too different for it to feel like a déjà-vu.

“I hope you were the groom.” Polly says with a nod towards Tommy’s suit as he reaches the end of the gate.

Tommy walks past her. “You look like a mediocre waiter with that suit.”

She smirks at him, jiggling her keys and they walk side by side to her car.

The short stint back to prison was inevitable. Tommy _did_ violate his probation, and going back seemed like less effort than fighting it. He didn’t want to make himself seem even more suspicious, so he complied like the good, law-abiding citizen that he was.

“Where are they?” He asks without preamble as Polly opens the car.

“Back row, silver sedan. 10 o’clock.”

Sabini’s men. No threat for now, but clearly to be reckoned with in the near future. The aftermath of the robbery left Sabini as a laughing stock in the city. That, and the loss of 150 million basically sealed his fate as a broken man in Las Vegas. He may get a part of the money back from insurance, but his reputation is shattered, and that’s what counts in the long run.

By now, rumours had spread that the Shelby’s were back in the game. Even if Tommy had to sit on the side-lines for a while, Polly, Artur and John made enough trouble to let everybody know that _you don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders or you’ll end up like Sabini._

“You’re at least 10 million richer and you still drive this piece of shit to pick me up?”

“Blew it all on the suit.” She says, looking at Tommy over the roof of her car.

It _is_ a really nice suit, despite what he’s said earlier. Black, tailored, expensive.

“You look important.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I fucking am.” Polly’s lips twitch. “And speaking of money, I have news.”

“Good news, I hope?”

Tommy waits and lights up a cigarette. When Polly doesn’t speak up right away, he turns in his seat and raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Remember how we thought that there’d be about 150 million inside that vault?”

“That’d be an important detail to forget.” Tommy narrows his eyes, “What about it?”

Polly licks her lips and her mouth turns into a satisfied smile. “Hm. That estimate wasn’t quite right.”

_What?_

“Was about 15 million more. The count amounted to 165 million and a few thousands.”

Tommy’s mind begins to take on speed, calculating in the unexpected money.

“Didn’t want to tell you over the phone, who knows what contacts Sabini has in prison and who’s listening in.”

That was probably a smart thing, and even though Tommy hated to be kept in the dark, he appreciates Polly’s foresight.

“And by the way, Solomons called.”

Alfie called _Polly_? Tommy ignores how his heart spikes up at the mere mention of his name.

Trying not to let the surprise show on his face, Tommy asks, “What did he want?”

“Make a deal. Or rather, re-negotiate the deals you already have.”

That was to be expected. Tommy hums. “Anything else?”

Polly looks at him, then. She’s burning up with questions; Tommy can feel it. “Why, is there something else he’d be calling you about?”

Her tone isn't overly suspicious, but Tommy’s mind automatically jumps to the warehouse, months ago. Alfie’s hands in his hair, his lips, his breath against his cheek. Tommy mentally shakes himself and ignores the heat spreading over his neck. Tommy did a good – a fucking _great_ job – at not thinking about Alfie for the last few months save for business, but now it rushes back to him in full force.

But Polly doesn’t know, does she?

Maybe she talked to Ada and then came to her own conclusions, but Tommy scratches the thought from his mind. Ada wouldn’t have told Polly about their conversation in the car, not without any valid reason. And even then, it’s not like there is _anything_ between Alfie and him. That’d be ridiculous.

“No. Just asking.” Tommy says finally. That was a matter for another day, when he’d have to meet with Alfie again in person, which could be days, maybe weeks from now.

And then, remembering the first part of the conversation, Tommy asks, “Did you tell him about the extra money?”

Polly smirks. “No.”

Tommy leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes for a second. “Good.”

15 million more. 15 million that Alfie doesn’t know about, which is- all in all it’s probably a very good thing. He already got a bigger cut than he deserved, so Tommy won’t give him even _more._

“We’re back in the game, now.” Polly changes gears and continues to drive. “There’s work to do.”

“Can’t wait.”

The silver sedan follows them out of the parking lot, keeping enough distance to not appear suspicious.

Let them come, he thinks, as they make their way back home. Let Sabini make his meagre attempt at revenge, let it begin.

The game was far from being over, it has just started.

Tommy is ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s done, that’s it! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, this was so much fun to write and I am … tempted to write a sequel to that because I kinda have a few ideas (maybe very, _very_ loosely based on Oceans Twelve).
> 
> Also, while I was writing this, I distinctively remembered that the book "Molly's Game" also has these poker-slang-terms as chapter titles, so I may have unintentionally uh, borrowed that idea. I know some of the chapters were a bit short, but I wanted each one to have a fitting title, so that's how that came to be.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and as always, tell me what you think in the comments! <3
> 
> Funny side note: I was this close to naming this fic “Poker Face” because I was listening to Lady Gaga. _This_ close.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [ iwonderifthatisart ](https://iwonderifthatisart.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think in the comments!


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